


Moves and countermoves

by haroldslouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice, D/s undertones - really really small, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, I'm Sorry, Light Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, On Hiatus, Regency Period, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 75,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2499482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haroldslouis/pseuds/haroldslouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This tale of love unfolds in the England of the late 18th century. The five Tomlinson children - including responsible Zayn and strong-willed Louis - have been raised by their mother with one purpose in life: finding a husband. When a wealthy bachelor takes up residence in a nearby manor, the village is excited. Amongst the man's sophisticated circle of friends, surely there will be no shortage of suitors for the two eldest Tomlinsons. But when Louis meets the handsome and - it would seem - snobbish Sir Harry Styles, everything he thought he knew may be turned upside down.</p><p>Or, the Pride and Prejudice AU which may or may not have a lot more sexual content than the original.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a massive thanks to [smittenwithlouis](http://www.smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) for being my wonderful beta!
> 
> So, this is a P&P AU, and parts of this story will be based on actual events from the book, but I will also make up my own storylines. Some of the characters from the book will be replaced with One Direction members or associates, but there will also be some canon characters from the book if I don't find a suitable replacement, so to speak.

* * *

 

Muffled voices drift through the creaks of the old house, the stale scent of washing detergent flooding in the hallways mixing with the smell of freshly cut herbs and mashed potatoes coming from the kitchen. The hem of the comforters hanging in the garden to dry are damp with the dew of the early morning, the bright sun peeking out over the tops of the trees causing a wet shift in the air, like a picture with an accidental blot of water on it.

In one of the rooms, Louis pulls up his blanket to his nose, whimpering a little from the cold of March coming through his open window. He slowly turns around, feels the mattress dip a little where Zayn is laying, still fast asleep, and Louis happily curls up against his brother and sniffles in his warmth. The voices coming from downstairs grow more heated and Louis sighs as he hears his mother raise her voice, the tone all too familiar in their household. “I wonder what it is this time,” he mumbles against the skin of Zayn’s neck. The long weaves of Zayn’s hair tickle against his cheeks and he rolls back to his own half, curling in his abandoned heat and enjoying every bit of these mornings. It’s a Sunday, so they can sleep in until nine before they all head off to church.

The door of their bedroom opens, revealing Ms. Hill, one of their chamber maids. “Goodmorning, Louis, lovely day, innit?” she smiles, carrying his and Zayn’s clothes in her hands and she lies them down at the foot of the bed. “He still asleep?”

Louis looks over to Zayn for a second and then shakes his head. “No, he just doesn’t want to get up and socialize like normal people do,” he grins. Zayn aims a languid kick to his crotch but misses and Louis pouts, rubbing his sore knee. “Told you he wasn’t asleep,” he then tells Ms. Hill.

She just smiles at the two boys, wrinkles crinkling at the corners of her eyes. “Your mother wants you washed and dressed, and attending breakfast in thirty minutes, boys. And as you might’ve heard already, today is not the day to make her wait.”

Louis hums in agreement. “I heard. What’s it about this time? Did father forget another anniversary, or something along those lines?”

“There’s a new man in town, moved into Netherfield Park a few days ago and dad hasn’t visited him yet,” comes Zayn’s sleepy mumble, his body flexing underneath the covers as one of the first signs that he’s preparing himself physically, and also mentally, to get out of bed and into the madhouse that is his family.

Louis looks at the mop of unruly black hair sprawled onto a pillow. “Oi, how do you know?” he frowns.

 Ms. Hill smiles and leaves the room, but not before adding a reminding, “Thirty minutes, boys,” before closing the door.

Louis is still staring at Zayn, who finally has mustered up enough energy and mostly willpower to turn his head and look at his younger brother. “Some of us can actually read a book and still listen to the conversation around them, unlike you,” he yawns.

As Zayn burrows his face in Louis’ pillows, Louis gets out of bed and tiptoes over to where his clothes are. It’s his freshly washed Sunday outfit and even though he would rather do anything than going to church, he can’t deny that he loves the way his trousers fit snugly over his plump arse. He gathers his clothes in his arms and trots off to the bathroom, ignoring Zayn’s sleepy mumbling about leaving some warm water for him.

-

A little more than thirty minutes later both he and Zayn sink down in their chairs at the table, Louis smiling at his father who just chuckles at the boys’ tardiness. Their mother, however, isn’t so forgiving. “Louis, look at you,” Mrs. Tomlinson sighs, shaking her head, “Did you even comb your hair after you got out of the bath? And those trousers, they’ve become too small, again.”

“Just be glad the boy is still growing,” his father Paul says, clapping a supportive hand on Louis’ narrow shoulders. “You will look like a grown-up soon enough.”

 Louis just blushes and quickly says his prayer before starting to eat, trying to ignore his mother as she rages on about the way Zayn shouldn’t be wearing those flimsy scarves around his neck because they make him look provocative and that, apparently, gives men wrong ideas. Zayn just shrugs as he munches on a piece of bread and then Mrs. Tomlinson redirects her attention to their younger sisters, the three of them cackling loudly, and Louis mouths along with the words as his mother cries out; “Children, think about my poor nerves!”

Each and every morning it’s the same routine and all of them are used to it by now, but at the same time it continues to drive them crazy. Eventually, there is about a three-second gap of silence and Louis quickly uses it to butt in; “Is it true, did someone move into Netherfield Park?”

This question causes his father Paul to sigh and sink lower in his chair, and his mother perks up with a defiant glint in her eyes. “Well, yes, dear. Yes, it is. By a nobleman named Liam James Payne, he originally comes from London,” she gushes.

Zayn looks up from his glass of orange juice. “London? What’s he doing here then? It’s boring as f—” Louis nudges Zayn with his elbow to prevent his brother from swearing in front of their parents.

Their mother didn’t notice, obliviously continuing to talk, “Oh, you know how these people are, Zayn, they get sick of the city and they want to explore the countryside.”

“These people?” Louis inquires.

“You know, the rich and powerful, my love. I heard he’s one of the richest men in the province. So, Zayn…”

Zayn lets his spoon dangle halfway up to his mouth and stares at his mother. “What?”

“Oh, don’t be ignorant, boy!” she fusses. “He’s single, and he is our neighbour.”

“So?” Zayn’s expression is still blank, and Louis rolls his eyes. Of course Zayn knows what their mother is talking about, but his brother has decided a long time ago that he doesn’t care or to pretend he doesn’t care. It might be working out fine for him, but for Louis and their sisters and especially their father, it means that their mother will keep on talking until Zayn shows some sign of understanding. It’s safe to say that it’s irritating the hell out of him.

“Shouldn’t we be introduced first?” he asks, looking at his father. At the stricken look on his father’s face, and the huff his mother lets out, Louis decides that might’ve been not such a good question.

“Your father hasn’t visited him yet,” his mother bristles. “It’s been four days and he hasn’t done a thing.”

 “Why not?” Zayn asks, sipping from his glass. The rising sunlight coming in through the windows cast a beam onto his face, his honey-coloured eyes appearing lighter.

Their father opens his mouth to answer, but suddenly their mother jumps up from the table and points at the clock. “We’re running late, kids. We can continue this conversation after church, which my nerves would highly appreciate.”

Louis just hums and finishes his breakfast quickly, all the while thinking about their exciting new neighbour.

- 

Louis normally dozes off during the church service, in between the singing and standing, and he’s glad Zayn usually offers his shoulder for him to lean on. Today is no different, he’s sleepy and tucked warmly in his thick coat and it’s just so easy to just close his eyes and drift away…

“Louis, open your eyes!” his mother hisses and she leans over Zayn to pinch his knee. Louis lets out a small squeak but sits up straight again.

“That neighbour of ours apparently sits two rows up,” Zayn mumbles as explanation, keeping his eyes firmly on the clergyman reciting the Ten Commandments.

Louis curves a little, tries to look through the people in front of him but he only sees the back of the heads and quickly gives up and tries to fall asleep again as inconspicuously as possible.

After the service, he’s standing in the square with Zayn, keeping an eye on their three sisters as they talk to their friends and to make sure to be able to call them over as soon as their parents are done talking. “Look, there he comes,” his mother mutters and Louis looks over, Zayn also following his line of sight. “Which one is it?” he frowns.

 “The broader one is Liam Payne, your neighbour and the taller of the two is Sir Harry Styles, his best friend. He owns more than half of Cheshire and is even richer than mister Payne,” Mrs. Lucas informs them, one of their mother’s friends.

 Louis squints his eyes, studying Sir Harry Styles who is moving through the people, his jaw set firmly and he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes. There is a woman at his side, her hand in the crook of his elbow.

“Is that his wife?” Louis asks, nodding towards them.

Mrs. Lucas shakes her head. “That’s Miss Taylor Swift, one of their friends from London. As far as I know, Sir Styles doesn’t swing that way.”

Louis just hums and shrugs, “Whatever,” and he looks at Zayn. His brother’s eyes are following the steps of Mister Payne, who is getting in his four-span carriage. “Zayn, are you coming?” Louis asks.

Zayn swipes his finger along his stubble, his gaze still fixed on the man who just got into the carriage.

“Zayn, man, stop ignoring me,” Louis whines and he grabs Zayn’s hand and tugs him along.

Their sisters follow, their chatter and laughter filling their ears as they make their way back to the house. After a few minutes, their parents have caught up and Louis can’t suppress a smile when their mother starts asking Zayn about what he thought of Liam Payne, to which Zayn dryly responds with, “He has a nice arse.”

Scandalised, their mother turns to Louis and asks the same question. “Well, uhm, he and his fancy friends kind of look out of place,” Louis grimaces. “Especially that tall one. I saw him looking at a few people like they were dirt on his shoe.”

His mother hums, “Well, love, that tall one, as you put it, makes twice as much money as Mister Payne does and therefore you shouldn’t judge so quickly. Not that it matters, though, because without your father visiting them and introducing us, we won’t even talk to them.”

“Why won’t father visit him?” Zayn asks, a small crease between his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, but well… It doesn’t matter. We can live without them. Like you said, Louis, they’re too fancy for this place anyway.”

They can hear their father’s low chuckle coming from the back of their little group and they turn around. “What’s so funny, dear?” mother asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” their father is still laughing, “But if I had known that you thought them too fancy and didn’t want to meet them, then I wouldn’t have visited him yesterday. That would’ve saved me some precious time.”

Their mother’s face clears and her eyes shine bright with excitement. “You visited him?” she cries out. Louis and Zayn wince at the shrill sound of their mother’s voice and roll their eyes at each other, while their father just grins.

“Yes, I did. Exchanged a book or two as well, nice young man. He’s coming to the ball tomorrow, Zayn.” He winks at his eldest son.

Zayn just groans and stomps away in the direction of their street.

“Oh, what a funny joke! Louis, isn’t your father the funniest man ever?” his mother giggles.

“Sure, mum. I don’t know why the rest of us even tries anymore,” but Louis smiles nevertheless when he sees his mother happily hugging his father, and he turns around on his heel to follow Zayn back to their small manor.

He catches up with his brother on the front lawn and gently takes hold of his wrist. “Don’t worry, Zayn, father was just joking,” he says as Ms. Hill opens the door for them.

Zayn huffs as he steps inside. “Yeah, well, that specific sense of humour belongs to mum and I would appreciate it if it stays that way. I am not going to flaunt myself like some prostitute tomorrow at that ball,” Zayn spits.

Louis’ eyes grow wide, “A p-prostitute? Zayn, what are you talking about? Of course not, all mum and dad want is to introduce us and hoping he will like us, since we’re neighbours and all that.”

Zayn scoffs. “You’re so naïve. Just be glad your aren’t the eldest and get your head out of your arse, Louis. The only reason mum is taking us to all these balls is to get rich, old men to notice our poor souls and marry us so we can save the family honour instead of going broke. That’s all there is to it, baby brother, and the sooner you get used to it, the better.”

Louis just stands still in the hallway as Zayn storms off, going back outside.

He flies past their parents as they make their way inside and his mother fusses. “It’s about time that boy found his manners,” she says, smoothing the wrinkles of her dress. “And why is he going outside, into the garden again? We have people coming over for tea in twenty minutes!”

“Calm down, love. Just let him be for a while, okay?”

Louis watches his mother’s tensed stand. “He’s almost eighteen, Paul, he should know better than to isolate himself all the time. Who is going to take care of everything when you are dead? That’s him! And it’s not going to happen if he keeps drawing and reading all day in the garden. He needs to go out, meet people and be social!”

 “Come, come, love. He's coming along to the ball tomorrow, isn’t he? You shouldn’t be so hard on him. When he meets the right person, he meets the right person. It doesn’t matter how many hours of his day he spends out in public.”

Louis turns around and walks to the drawing room, picking up his book on the way there. To be honest, he doesn’t want to sit here and socialize with his parents’ acquaintances either, but he figures his mom can’t handle two of her sons absent, so he decides to suck it up.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, he can make out Zayn’s hunched shoulders, he’s sitting on the side of the lake, in the high grass reaching up to his elbows. As far as Louis can see, Zayn isn’t drawing or reading. He’s just looking in the distance, watching the flock of birds flying over the lake and shooting off into their freedom.

Even though he doesn’t understand everything Zayn just said to him, he does know that there is a specific weight on Zayn’s shoulders because he is the eldest son. He sees it in the way Zayn holds himself, his reserved, sometimes cold character. It’s like he’s wearing some kind of corset, both to keep himself in check but also to keep others out from knowing his true character underneath the cool pretence.

“In your own little world again, I see?”

Louis looks up from where he was watching Zayn  and smiles at his father. “Just thinking,” he mumbles, pulling his knees to his chest and putting his closed book on the cushion next to him.

His father hums, sitting down in his worn leather chair and sparing a fleeting glance through the window before he looks back at Louis. “You and your brother, you’re both dreamers,” he remarks, smiling. “But different dreamers. Zayn, I think, dreams of freedom and rest, whereas you—you dream of excitement. I know, son, I see it in your eyes. But, just be careful, okay?”

Louis nods slowly, albeit a bit confused. “Of course, father. But, for what should I be careful?”

“For dreaming past your reach,” his father clarifies, thoughtfully staring at the flock of birds still circling the lake. “The beauty of dreaming is that there are no boundaries. But son, real life isn’t like your dreams, otherwise there wouldn’t be any dreams. Your mother, for instance, believes she can ship you both, but mostly Zayn, off into marriages and save the family fortune for when I am dead. But I want you to know, there is more to life than marrying wealthy, okay? You need to be able to live with yourself, before you can live with someone else. Don’t go around thinking about income first, and taking the personality for granted. I am being realistic here when I say you might not marry out of love, Louis, but please, don’t marry out of greed. No matter what your mother says.”

With those words, his father stands up from his chair, patting Louis’ knee as he moves to leave the room again. Louis sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

When he glances out the window again, he sees Zayn pacing through the grass, hands pushed deep into his pockets and a frown above his eyes which Louis wants to smooth out with his thumb.

He averts his eyes, picks up his book and finds the page he was on. It’s always easier to escape in someone else’s world than to deal with the problems of his own one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Niall will appear as well in this story, I just have to figure out which part he's going to fill in. If you have any tips or suggestions as to Niall's part, let me know!  
> \- This is a work in progress and I have a very busy schedule, but I will try to update at least once a week, and maybe twice if inspiration is flowing and time hands itself to me.  
> \- You can find me on my tumblr sideblog: [hazza-andtommo](http://www.hazza-andtommo.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and feedback would be wonderful!


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tomlinsons go to the ball in Meryton, where they meet Mr. Liam Payne and Sir Harry Styles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you [smittenwithlouis](http://www.smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) for being my wonderful beta.  
> \- Also thanks to you, my readers, for the feedback and the love.  
> \- Niall is the wonderful Charlotte Lucas, thank you [mdmsll3noir](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/mdmsll3n0ir/pseuds/mdmsll3n0ir) for giving me the idea.  
> \- The ball doesn't go exactly the way it goes in the book, but hey, who cares?
> 
> Enjoy!

“Louis, for goodness sake, take your hands out of your pockets!”

Louis sighs deeply before complying, and continues to lean against the wall, deciding to cross his arms if he isn’t allowed to put them in his pockets.

The top buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned as a result of the few dances he had earlier this evening. His mother is fanning herself fervently, trying to keep her eyes on her children and possible suitors, Louis figures. He takes a small sip of the second glass of wine Zayn got for him, feels the velvety liquid gently sliding down his throat and heating him up from the inside. His feet feel lighter with every sip he takes, and he thinks he’s maybe still too young to drink alcohol, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself even more than his mother already does for him. He decides not to ask Zayn for another glass later as he takes another sip and tries to ignore the buzzing in his head.

His best friend Niall is on the other side of the room, and since he’s the son of tonight’s host, he’s busy shaking hands, curtsying and laughing at people he hasn’t seen or spoken to before. Louis kind of pities him, knowing how much Niall likes to dance instead of making conversation. He raises his glass at his friend when he catches his eye and Niall beams and excitedly waves at him.

Louis eyes drift further through the room, inspecting the couples who are dancing, one of them being Zayn and Daniel Keaton, an old school friend of Louis. He can’t help but grimace a little, hoping maybe Zayn steps on Daniel’s toes because Louis definitely doesn’t want Daniel to become his brother-in-law.

Haydn’s symphony slowly dies down, the couples parting and Louis smiles at the heated blush on Zayn’s cheeks. His brother has had his fair share of dances already, being the beauty of the village and all that.

“My feet are killing me,” Zayn groans, dropping down in a chair next to Louis. “I don’t care if the queen shows up, I am not dancing anymore tonight.” He looks up at his younger brother who’s still leaning against the wall, a pensive frown above his eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

Louis snaps out of his thoughts and looks down to where Zayn is sitting, rubbing his sore ankles. “Um, I was just thinking about our neighbour, Liam Payne. He’s supposed to be here tonight, right?”

Ever since their father told them Mr. Payne would attend the ball in Meryton, it’s all their mother talked about. Louis is silently hoping his neighbour will show up, just for the sake of his mother’s whining not having been in vain.

Suddenly, the music slows and fades away, making both Louis and Zayn glance up. The people in the middle of the hall have stopped dancing, and all the heads are turned towards the entrance. Soft murmurs are heard all around them, people craning their necks to look over the crowd and to see the cause of this silence. Zayn stands up and, being the taller of the two, snorts softly as he spots the source of the commotion. “Speak of the devil,” he whispers in Louis ear, and at first Louis doesn’t understand him. Until he stands on his tiptoes and peers over Zayn’s shoulder.

Even though he never really memorized Mr. Payne’s face last Sunday – too focused on his tall, handsome friend – he immediately knows it’s him. He strides into the room with confident steps, a smile blooming on his face which makes his eyes crinkle like he’s having the time of his life already even though he only just arrived. His greatcoat is an expensive-looking shade of grey, with a standing white collar, contrasting beautifully with his caramel coloured stubble. His black, shining boots make clacking sounds as he walks over to Mr. Horan with momentous steps.

“Damn.”

Louis ignores Zayn’s comment, his eyes already fixed on the party behind Mr. Payne, whom he remembers his mother talking about. Apparently, they’re Mr. Payne’s friends and Louis recognizes the woman called Taylor Swift and, his breathing hitches for just a second, Sir Harry Styles.

His appearance is gorgeous, even more so than Mr. Payne’s, but his expression is cold and distant, like it had been on Sunday. His tall legs are wrapped in a pair dark brown trousers and his boots engulf his strong calves. Louis wonders if he rides a horse.

“Stop staring, boy, it’s impolite,” his mother suddenly hisses next to him, and Louis jumps out of his thoughts, which were growing more raunchy at the second.

“I’m sorry, mother, it’s all just so impressive,” he whispers, and his mother nods fervently along with him. “Our neighbour looks like a nice man,” Louis carefully adds.

“That he does, my dear, that he does. I will call your father over so he can introduce us.” She then turns to Zayn and tugs him closer by the lapels on his coat. “Look at you,” she shakes her head, fixing Zayn’s mussed up hair and tying his cravat again. “Zayn, love, can you at least try to look like you’re enjoying it?”

She doesn’t wait for her eldest son’s response and Louis doubts if she would’ve appreciated the way Zayn promptly downs his glass of whiskey before making his way after his mother. Louis scurries along as well, signalling to Niall that he’ll come over in a few minutes to talk to him.

“Paul, dear, don’t you think it’s about time?”

His father looks up from his cake, a small speck of whipped cream on the side of his mouth. “Time for what, love?”

“To introduce us like a pair of trade animals to the rich and wealthy who just walked in,” Zayn mumbles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Louis suppresses a smile when he sees the glare his mother gives Zayn as she cleans her husband’s mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, right, that,” their father groans as he stands up, “Let’s get it over with, shall we?”

He takes Mrs. Tomlinson’s arm and guides them to their host, Mr. Horan, who promptly smiles and nods. “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Tomlinson, how wonderful to have you here as well tonight,” he greets them amiably, “Let me introduce you to Mr. Liam Payne.”

Zayn and Louis both straighten, plastering a smile onto their faces as their father bows shortly and their mother curtsies for Mr. Payne, who mirrors the gesture. “How wonderful to meet you, my neighbours!” His voice is deep and warm, eyes still beaming a specific kind of youth.

“It’s our honour to meet you, Mr. Payne. Let me introduce you to my two eldest sons, Zayn and Louis,” their father nods, stepping aside.

Zayn steps forward first, deciding for a curtsy instead of a bow, because those were his mother’s adamant wishes. It’s a way of showing a submission, and at the same time showing if you are attracted to men. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Payne,” Zayn says, his hands locked behind his back.

Mr. Payne looks visibly taken aback for a few seconds, his eyes moving up and down Zayn’s body once before he smiles again. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis can’t help but smile at the way Mr. Payne is no different than everyone else in this town, Zayn’s beauty overwhelming them time and time again. When Zayn steps aside, Louis steps forward and curtsies as well.

“I figure you are Louis?” Mr. Payne asks friendly.

Louis inwardly curses to himself for forgetting to say his name, so he just blushes and nods. “Yes, I am. It’s nice to meet you.”

Mr. Payne doesn’t seem offended, because his smile hasn’t wavered and he looks at all of them like they’ve come bearing gold. He turns towards Mrs. Tomlinson. “Excuse me if I am wrong, but I understood you have five children?”

“Yes, but my youngest daughter isn’t out in society yet, and my other two are already dancing. I hope that’s not a problem?”

Mr. Payne laughs and waves his hand in a dismissive manner. Louis thinks it looks rather arrogant. “No, not a problem at all. I have got all the time in the world. Now – let me introduce you to my dear friend, Sir Harry Styles.”

Louis squirms a little as he hears the name, looking over his shoulder to communicate with Niall, using his eyes and his expressions to tell his friend that he can’t come over yet. Niall gestures in a grand manner that Louis should hurry up.

An elbow from Zayn in his ribs makes  him squeak and jump. “It appears Louis was in his own world again,” Zayn says, smiling at his little brother.

Louis blushes a crimson red and turns around to meet Sir Styles’ eyes, who is staring blankly at him. He quickly curtsies clumsily. “Excuse me, Sir. My name is Louis,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on his feet.

He only hears a dismissive hum, before Sir Styles announces in a low voice, “I didn’t know they allowed children to go to balls in these parts of the country.”

Louis’ breathing catches in his throat and he feels his hands balling into fists at those words. He opens his mouth to talk back, the alcohol in his veins making him reckless, but before he can do that, he’s engulfed by Niall, his friend hugging him like he hasn’t seen him in a year. “Louis!” he squeals, “Why didn’t you come over earlier?”

Louis swallows, “I, uhm, had to introduce myself to S-Sir Styles,” he mumbles, catching Sir Styles’ gaze over Niall’s shoulder, who is still frowning slightly and averting his eyes as soon at Louis’ meets them.

“Oh, okay,” Niall beams, unabashed, “But now, come dance with me, I know you like this song!” And he tugs Louis along to the middle of the hall, the two of them slipping seamlessly in along the other couples.

Louis laughs along with Niall as he lets himself be twirled and tiptoed across the shining wooden floor, his friend always having been the perfect way to cheer him up. “Are you having a good time?” Niall asks over the sound of the music.

Louis nods, smiling back at his friend. “I am now, it’s just so warm in here!”

Niall hums in agreement before dropping his hands to Louis’ waist and swaying him along some more. “I saw you talking to Sir Styles and Mr. Payne earlier, what do you think of them?” he asks

Louis shrugs a little. “Mr. Payne seems nice, I guess. But Sir Styles, he called me a child,” the scowl is evident in his voice.

“A child?” Niall’s eyes grow wide. “Why?”

“I don’t know, he just thinks I am too young to go to balls apparently.”

Niall makes a _tsk_ sounds with his tongue. “Well, if he feels that way, then he can, but it shouldn’t stop you from having a laugh and a nice dance with me, right? I don’t care if he thinks you’re too young, because if you are too young, then I am, too. Besides, we’re almost eighteen, so nowhere close to being children, right?”

“You’re right, Niall,” Louis smiles, “As always.” He lets his shoulders lose some of the tension, curls along with Niall with every step and he completely forgets the way it sort of hurt, the way Sir Styles looked at him earlier.

 However, when he sees Zayn on the edge of the dance floor clearly apologizing for his behaviour towards Sir Styles and Mr. Payne, an uneasy feeling settles in his stomach. He knows how much it irritates Zayn that their family is so prominently forthcoming and the least he can to do is to make sure Zayn doesn’t feel ashamed of him.

So, when he and Niall are done dancing, and his friend is being whisked away by his mother to meet even more new people, Louis decides to make up for his stumbling earlier and he joins the little group where his mother is talking excitedly to Mr. Payne, Zayn on her side and Sir Harry Styles taking a sip from his red wine every now and then.

“Oh, there you are. I almost thought we’d have to drag you away from that boy again.” The disdain his mother has towards Niall is clearly visible in her voice.

Louis can’t help but feel insulted and replies, “ _That boy_ , mother, is my best friend.”

“Oh, and he is lovely,” Mrs. Tomlinson turns towards Mr. Payne, “But you know how these young boys are with each other at formal events like these. Only dancing and drinking with each other instead of making new acquaintances.”

Louis sarcastically rolls his eyes at that and catches Sir Styles’ eyes in the process, studying him, and he quickly ducks his head, a blush once again blooming on his cheeks.

“I think it’s only right for the younger people at this ball to enjoy themselves,” Mr. Payne says with a good-natured smile towards Louis. “After all, most grown-ups only talk about politics and ethics, like Styles here.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Sir Styles’ lips at Mr. Payne’s words and Louis decides he wants to see him fully smiling, if he is capable of that, anyway.

“Don’t you want dance, Sir Styles?” he asks, “I assume that is a more agreeable past-time at a ball than discussions about politics?”

Sir Styles looks at him, and only now Louis notices his green eyes which look softer than the rest of his expression, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Mrs. Tomlinson is there first.

“Louis, are you asking Sir Styles to dance with you?” she asks, sounding a little scandalized, because that’s something you just didn’t do. Louis is significantly younger, poorer and definitely less important than Sir Styles and therefore shouldn’t even think of asking such a question.

Mr. Payne, however, laughs heartily and nods, “I think he did, and even if he didn’t, it’s time to get my dear friend on the dance floor. Styles, go dance with the boy.”

Louis silently begs the wooden floor to open up and to let the earth swallow him whole, embarrassment making him flush all over and he quickly fumbles with his fingers to close the top two buttons of his shirt. He carefully looks up at Mr. Styles, who takes a step forward.

“If the child insists,” he says, his low voice making _child_ sound even more indignant, and he holds out his large hand for Louis to take.

Louis swallows away any snarky comments the alcohol and his stubborn nature cause to bubble up inside him, and he just tries to smile, thinks it probably looks more like a grimace. “Thank you, Sir,” he whispers reluctantly, his smaller hand sliding into Sir Styles’ and he lets himself be guided to the middle of the assembly hall. He helplessly thinks to himself, _Dear God, give me strength._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I may or may not have a small age-difference kink, sue me.  
> \- I've been thinking about maybe writing the next chapter from Harry's POV. Let me know what you guys prefer. :)  
> Feedback would be lovingly drooled upon! :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the ball from Harry's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Thanks again to my dear beta: smittenwithlouis! It was a very difficult chapter to write and she helped me out loads. :)  
> \- This chapter is from Harry's POV and I am very nervous about what you guys will think about it.  
> Enjoy!

For Harry, the entire evening so far had been nothing but a total bore, making him grow more annoyed as time went on. He hadn’t been here for more than five minutes before he heard one lady whispering to another about his fortune. If there is anything he hates, it’s people mentioning his money above all else.

And then the meeting with the Tomlinsons. Liam had been going on about them since he already met Mr. Tomlinson at his manor earlier this week. Apparently he is an agreeable man who has a great taste in books about philosophy. Harry thinks he is probably the only one in that family who does, judging from Mrs. Tomlinson, who had been one of the ladies gossiping about him. She is incredibly loud and her voice has a type of shrill ring to it which he doesn’t like in the slightest.

Their sons, well, the eldest is definitely very handsome and Harry immediately sees the way Liam looks at him – entranced by his beauty. He has never known anyone else who can fall in and out of love so easily. Let Liam see a pretty face and pretty manners, and he looks no further. Harry has to give it to him, the eldest Tomlinson is indeed the beauty of the ball and it doesn’t surprise him when Liam whisks him away for a dance.

Harry doesn’t particularly enjoy dancing, and it’s not because he can’t dance; his upbringing gave him the best dancing lessons there were. But it’s because he has never found a partner who is as good as him. He is easily annoyed and when someone steps on his toes – the evening is over as far as he is concerned.

And now he’s guiding the Louis to the middle of the dance floor, doubting if this boy is going to be any different. Harry saw him dancing with his friend earlier and it was mostly a mess of flailing limbs and too loud laughter and giggles.

“I am terribly sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to ask you to dance with me.”

Harry’s thoughts are interrupted by Louis’ soft-spoken words and he looks down at the boy. He takes his two hands in his own, guiding him in the dance. Louis is small, young, but his eyes have a certain kind of confidence you rarely find in a teenager. “Does that mean you do not want to dance with me, boy?” Harry inwardly winces a little, the sentence coming out harsher than he intended to.

He watches Louis stutter a little before hurriedly saying, “No! I-I meant to say that I was impolite, Sir.”

Harry just raises his eyebrows, turning Louis around in a circle with his right arm and resettling his hand on his waist. “It is to be expected that children sometimes blurt out things they do not mean, so therefore I am not insulted.” He sees the light of the chandelier above them catching on Louis’ sharp cheekbones, the soft skin pulled taut over the bone.

“Excuse me, Sir, but I am not a child anymore. I am seventeen, nearly eighteen.” Louis sounds defiant again with an edge to his voice which lets Harry think there’s more he wants to say. Somehow he wants to know what else this boy has to tell him.

“Seventeen, hm? I thought you would be younger. Do you go to school?”

He watches Louis focusing on his footwork as they sway through the room. For the first time in years, Harry is oblivious to the countless pairs of eyes watching his every move. His gaze is trapped on the young man he’s dancing with.

“I did, but I am finished now. Last year was my final year at the village school,” Louis says, his eyes moving back up to meet Harry’s again.

Harry frowns, “And what about University? Surely you will continue your studies, right?”

He sees Louis blushing a little, shaking his head. “I, uh – no. I won’t continue my studies at a University. My parents do not have enough money for that, so I try to read some study books from the library to keep learning.”

“Right,” Harry hums, “I forgot, this isn’t exactly Oxford Street.”

He sees a flash of insult wave over Louis’ face, and before he knows it, the song has ended. Louis’ gives him a short bow before stalking away, grabbing Niall’s arm and tugging his friend along in the process.

“Nice one, Styles,” he murmurs sarcastically to himself, before walking off to where Zayn and Liam are talking. Liam holds a glass of wine ready for him and Harry downs it immediately, wishing the burn of alcohol was a little stronger.

“Your brother has got quite the manners,” he says to Zayn, fixing his collar. He throws a quick glance over his shoulder but Louis is nowhere to be seen. Harry figures the boy has probably gone into one of the other rooms with his blonde friend.

Zayn looks a little injured, “I-I’m sorry, Sir. Louis doesn’t really handle social events well, too much conduct and formalities he forgets to adjust to. I ask you to, please, not take it personally.”

“Oh, I don’t think he forgot his proper manners,” Harry says knowingly, “I get the feeling he just doesn’t want to follow them. But you are right, it’s not for me to worry about.”

When Zayn stares at him speechless, Harry wishes he hadn’t drank his glass empty yet, because now he doesn’t know how to hold himself and what to do with his hands. Thankfully, Liam just laughs his teeth bare and his eyes crinkle as he says, “Well, thank goodness for that. If everyone followed the rules and traditions, everything would be absolutely boring, am I right?”

Harry just grunts dismissively and excuses himself, picking up another glass of wine from a tray. He walks out of the room, into the hall, where the air is cooler and it doesn’t feel quite as packed as it does inside.

He makes his way towards the garden. The faint clattering of the water in the fountain and the chirping of the crickets are the only sounds filling his ears for a moment. The night is dark and crisp, like it usually is towards the end of March, and Harry enjoys the cold air against his flushed cheeks and warm forehead. One of his curls falls into his face and he brushes it behind his ear.

There are a few more people in the garden, mostly older couples having a relaxing conversation, away from the warmth and the crowds inside. Harry softly laughs to himself. He thinks about London, where the streets are at least half as busy and crowded as it is inside the countless social assemblies. Liam thinks there is some kind of charm to the countryside, but Harry himself doesn’t see it. Some people are too loose in their manners, but not in the way the people of London are loose in their manners. Here, it seems like an act of silliness or ignorance. But in London, people choose to live a life which isn’t restricted within the traditional bounds.

He thinks about Louis Tomlinson, the boy who also neglects the unspoken rules. It isn’t a case of ignorance, because when Harry looks at Zayn Tomlinson, he sees the perfect model of proper conduct. Harry thinks maybe Louis belongs in the city. He’s got the attitude for it. He turns his glass around between his fingers before taking a sip, looking at the dark red liquid.

“I thought I saw you hurrying out of the assembly hall.”

Harry looks up at the sound and he meets Taylor’s teasing eyes. “I wasn’t hurrying,” he just says.

Taylor shrugs, “I don’t blame you. Seeing these people also makes me want to find an escape and run. Five ladies came up to me – _five,_ mind you – and asked me who designed my dress and what fabric it’s made of. I am telling you, dear Styles, the people here live in the seventeenth century.”

“Interesting,” Harry comments, not caring about Taylor’s discoveries about women’s fashion.

“Although, it wasn’t quite as shocking as when I heard you got asked to a dance by that Tomlinson boy. The one without any manners as it seems, what’s his name again?”

“Louis,” Harry answers, “And he didn’t directly ask me – it was a miscommunication. Liam, however, thought it would be a splendid idea to set me up for a dance. You know how he is at balls; he thinks dancing is the only way to properly enjoy it. Therefore he must get everyone to dance at least twice before he’s happy with himself.”

Taylor laughs, the sound loud and sharp in the night’s sky. “Dear Liam, always so willing to converse with people, no matter what their class or income is. Surely, you refused to dance with that Louis boy, no? I’ve heard some things about that family, especially their mother.”

“I didn’t refuse him. His dancing wasn’t terrible either, I quite enjoyed it. Apart from the fact that he obviously talks too much before he thinks.” Harry takes another sip of his wine, watching Taylor.

Her mouth falls open in amused shock, “Sir Styles danced with a poor country boy? Thank goodness we aren’t in London,” she laughs, “You would be on the front page of the social section in the Daily Mirror if it got out! That boy probably thinks you’re doting on him already. You know how these poor people are, Styles. One glance from a rich bachelor makes them believe they can climb up a few classes and actually matter in life.”

Harry feels himself growing annoyed at the way Taylor is clearly laughing and ridiculing the situation so he takes another sip of his wine and excuses himself.

As he walks back inside he bumps into a small body, and as he steadies himself he meets the piercing blue eyes of Louis Tomlinson. Judging by the way the corners of Louis’ mouth are turned down and the embarrassed pink on his cheeks – Louis heard every word Taylor said about him.

Harry wants to say something and opens his mouth to apologize but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Lovely friends you’ve got, Sir.” Louis’ voice is surprisingly steady and calm. “Excuse me,” he says, and he walks back into the assembly room without looking back at Harry once.

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before slowly letting it out again. He doesn’t even know why he cares. It’s a mere coincidence the boy was right there around the corner and at least it was Taylor who said those words, and not him.

-

Luckily the night quickly ends after that, and while Liam says his goodbyes to apparently all of his new friends, Harry leans against the carriage. Taylor strokes one of the horses patiently. She is talking to Zayn who is also outside waiting for his parents and siblings. Harry finds it a strange combination, Taylor and Zayn, but they seem to tolerate each other more than they tolerate other people so he decides not to judge.

“Thank goodness, there you are,” Taylor sighs happily,  when Liam appears. “I was wondering if we should call for a search party.”

Liam just beams. “No need for that, love, I was just having a lovely chat with Mrs. Tomlinson about the hunting possibilities in the area. I know how much you like to hunt, Harry, so maybe you’ll start to appreciate the countryside more if you do.”

Harry grunts in acknowledgement but gives his friend a smile nevertheless. He’s never been able to resist the happiness which seems to radiate from Liam’s face. “I suppose we shouldn’t give up hope, then. Let’s go hunting sometime.”

Liam seems pleased with that answer and turns towards Zayn. His expression grows softer, if that was even possible. “Thank you for the lovely night, Mr. Tomlinson. I hope to meet you and your family soon. I am pretty sure we will since we are neighbours.”

“Likewise, Mr. Payne,” Zayn just smiles. Harry doesn’t miss the fond look on the eldest Tomlinson’s face.

Liam takes Zayn’s hand and bows, bringing his hand up to his lips and pressing a small, fleeting kiss to the knuckles. “I hope you’ll have a good night’s sleep,” he says, once he has straightened himself. No one but Harry notices the way Liam and Zayn hold each other’s hand for a few seconds longer than necessary.

Mrs. Tomlinson, who missed the action between her eldest son and Liam, stops talking with Taylor when the blonde lady doesn’t bother with answering anymore. She turns around towards Zayn. “Where in the heavens is your brother? I haven’t seen him since he took off with that Niall boy.”

“Perhaps he is already in the carriage with your daughters?” Liam suggest helpfully.

Right at that moment Louis comes tripping down the steps of the building and announces, “I’m right here! Sorry, I’m late.”

Harry looks at the boy’s tousled hair, the brown strands are all over the place. He sees the way Louis is clutching his coat tighter around himself to protect his body from the cold night’s temperature. Louis doesn’t look at him or Taylor, just quickly curtsies for Liam and makes his way towards the carriage. Harry doesn’t feel insulted for the moment. He just watches Louis taking off his coat and giving it to his sister Lydia, who gratefully pats his cheeks and wraps herself in it. They both get into the carriage.

The rest of the Tomlinson family quickly follows suit, Zayn and Liam being the last of the group to say their goodbyes to each other, for the second time.

Harry decides to cut his friend some slack and doesn’t bring up the eldest Tomlinson son during the ride back towards Netherfield Park. Taylor however, doesn’t give Liam the same privilege and laughs when she says, “Look at you, Payne, if I didn’t know you better, I would say you are already gone for that boy. But, oh wait, I do know you better – and you are already in love, as it seems.” She has a satisfied look on her face. Harry wonders if it’s because she approves of Liam being – something – with Zayn Tomlinson or if she’s just pleased with herself.

Liam laughs heartily. “Nonsense! No one falls in love with someone in just one evening. He is very charming and I do not have any objection to seeing him again.”

“He looks like a lovely boy,” Taylor admits, “But his family, oh! Styles, didn’t I hear you grumble earlier this evening about Mrs. Tomlinson gossiping about your wealth?”

Taylor looks sideways to Harry for a second but doesn’t wait for confirmation as she goes on, “And his younger brother, Lewis—”

“It’s Louis,” Harry corrects.

“—whatever, I am saying that he didn’t have any proper manners as well. He did get what he was out for though, getting Styles to dance with him.” Taylor claps her hands together and laughs like it’s the best joke she’s heard in years. Judging the dull people she normally surrounds herself with, Harry figures it probably is.

“It doesn’t matter,” Liam decides with a nod, “I liked them just fine and I am very glad to call them my neighbours. There is no reason for you to be rude about them, Taylor.”

“I am not being rude and especially not about Zayn Tomlinson,” Taylor holds up her index-finger, “I appreciate his sense of music and taste in wine. I shall invite him over to dinner soon.”

“Make sure to do it quickly so then you can do it at my house,” Liam nods and Harry hides his smile behind his hand, noticing the way Liam tries to cover up his eagerness to have Zayn over for dinner.

“Trust me,” Taylor smiles, “I would never invite one of your love interests over and then be so cruel not to have you there as well.”

-

After ten more minutes of hearing Liam and Taylor talking about Zayn, Harry is glad when he’s finally in the confinement of the four walls of his bedroom. He lets his coat and shirt be unbuttoned by a servant and then sends them away for the night. He undresses himself further and walks over towards the bed. The sheets are light when he lifts them up and he slides underneath the blankets of the bed. A sigh passes his lips as he feels his back and shoulders adjusting to the mattress and some of the tension flowing away from his neck.

Normally after busy nights like these he’s off to sleep in an instant once his head touches his pillow. Not tonight, though. He feels like there is something sizzling underneath his skin which keeps him awake and alert. The blankets are dragged along when he turns around in bed, inhaling the fresh scent of the sheets. His skin feels prickly and heated and he rolls over onto his back. His hand slides down his lower abdomen and he palms himself through his underpants. A moan escapes through his clenched teeth, dissolving into the dark room. His cock is hard and warm against his stomach and he slides his hand underneath the waistband of his underpants. His fingers spread the pre-cum over the length of his cock before starting to jerk himself off. His hips are pushing up into the tight ring of his fingers, and he focuses on keeping his mind blank as he does it. He jerks himself into a quick and messy orgasm, panting harshly with his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

When the smell of sex and the high temperature in and around his body have faded away, he picks up his handkerchief from his pants’ pocket and wipes himself clean.

This time he falls face first onto the bed and is off to sleep within seconds. The rain is splattering against the windows outside, and the orange fire in the fireplace crackles softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really, really nervous so I hope you guys liked this chapter! Feedback would be very much appreciated♥


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis goes into town with Niall and meets someone new. Zayn gets a letter from Netherfield Park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- A huge thank you to [smittenwithlouis](http://www.smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) who beta-read this chapter and also made a beautiful edit. I posted the edit at the beginning of chapter 1. Please, give it a look because it's gorgeous.  
> \- Thank you so much, my readers. Your kudos and comments really brighten my day, and lately my days need a lot of brightening. You guys do that, gracias por todo.  
> \- There's a new character being introduced in this chapter and I think some of you will like him and some of you won't, haha! Let me know, I am very curious to hear your reactions.  
> Enjoy!

It’s almost noon when Louis and Zayn are lying on a blanket in the garden. The air is a bit crisp around them so they’re wearing their coats and Louis has a scarf wrapped around his neck. A few birds are making their early nests in the trees of the garden. Every now and then Zayn and Louis hear the flattering of the wings and a bright chirping coming from the biggest tree.

Ms. Hill is coming out of the house, the door falling close behind her with a thud and she smiles at the boys. She’s holding the trousers Zayn wore to the ball a few nights ago. There’s a small stain on it which doesn’t come out, no matter how many times she has washed it already. “Try not to be so clumsy next time, dear,” she just says with a fond smile on her face. She hangs the trousers next to the other laundry hanging out to dry in the sun.

“What did you even do to those pants anyway?” Louis asks once she’s gone back inside, their mother’s sharp voice crying out for her help.

Zayn shrugs. His eyes are closed and his hands are behind his head as he tilts his face towards the sun. “Mr. Payne spilled some wine on it while we were talking. It’s not a big deal. I’m sure Hill will get it out this time, she always does.”

“And that is six,” Louis mumbles absentmindedly.

Zayn opens his eyes and cranes his neck to look at his younger brother. “Six what?”

“The sixth time you mentioned Payne today. It’s an improvement though, because yesterday you had already mentioned him ten times at this hour.”

Zayn splutters for a second and then huffs, “Well, you asked, so it doesn’t count.”

“Saying his name is saying his name,” Louis argues, “It counts.”

Zayn scoffs. “Whatever. I may not be so petty to be counting, but I am pretty sure you have mentioned Sir Styles more than I have mentioned Payne in the past few days.”

“That’s not true!”

“But it is.”

“It isn’t. Shut up.” Louis pointedly closes his eyes and crosses his arms. He ignores Zayn’s low chuckle beside him and instead he lets his fingers waver through the short strands of grass, pulling them out a few at a time.

“You shouldn’t vent your crankiness towards the grass. It didn’t do anything wrong.” The smile is evident in Zayn’s voice.

“I’m ignoring you, so stop talking to me,” Louis pouts, the strands of grass still being pulled out in rapid succession. “Go think of good Mr. Payne and his brown eyes and his _stupid_ ,—” Another tuft grass is being pulled from its roots, “— _arrogant_ friends.”

“Wow, you really don’t like them, do you?”

“What’s there to like?” Louis huffs.

He feels Zayn’s shoulder brush against his as his brother shrugs. “I think they’re alright. Ms. Swift was very kind to me and Sir Styles was nothing more than civil. A bit blunt maybe but that’s how these people are.”

Louis just softly shakes his head, the crown of his skull rolling against the grass. “That Swift lady is the worst,” he just says, not wanting to start about Sir Styles because his brother would bring up how Louis was mentioning him again.

“You don’t like Ms. Swift? Why?” Zayn sounds interested.

Louis rolls over onto his tummy and lets his sight focus on the grass. He leans his chin on the ground and lays his forehead on his arm. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles.

“Lou, if there is anything—” Zayn starts.

“Louis, Zayn! There you are!”

They both look up to see Niall hurrying towards them, stomping through the grass like he always used to do when they were kids. 

“Why are you two lying on the grass, it’s too cold for that!” The blonde exclaims once he’s nearer but he flops down next to Louis anyway.

“Hey Nialler,” Louis smiles, “What brings you to this depressing part of town?”

Niall grins. “Glad you asked. I came here to drag you two along with me to the not-so-depressing part of town. I heard there are a few officers coming into town today.”

“Don’t tell mother,” Zayn and Louis blurt at the same time, both of them clearly remembering the fit their mother almost threw the last time the militia came into town.

“I promise not to tell. Although I am pretty sure she already knows. She and my mother talk about everything,” Niall grins again, helping Louis up by his hands.

Louis pats some dirt off his trousers and then helps Zayn up. They walk through the rows of laundry hanging out to dry and they pass the house. Just as they’re about to walk through the gate, their mother calls out, “Zayn, you’re staying here!”

Zayn groans loudly and turns towards his mother. “Why?”

“I know you boys are off to see the officers and I will not have you being there, too. Besides, there is a letter for you from Ms. Swift and it came from Netherfield Park. Come, hurry over here so you can open it,” Mrs. Tomlinson states, beckoning her eldest son with her index-finger.

“Sorry, Zayn,” Louis mumbles softly, seeing the disappointed look on Zayn’s face.

His brother smiles weakly. “It’s okay. You and Niall should go have some fun. Like mother says, I am too old for that now.”

Louis wants to open his mouth to talk but Zayn is already walking towards the house and up the front steps. He takes the letter his mum thrusts towards him in the doorway and disappears into the house.

-

Louis and Niall walk towards the centre of the village, Louis mostly talking about how he feels bad for Zayn and that he wants his older brother to have the chance to loosen up some more.

Niall nods sympathetically even though he doesn’t experience the same thing as Louis does. His older brother Greg is already happily married and their family fortune is secure. Niall knows he has to get married sometime as well but he doesn’t lay awake because of it. To him it doesn’t matter if it’s Freddie from the bakery or Lord Tratore from Newcastle - he just wants to be happy and he hopes to marry the person who makes him just that.

The centre of the village is always busy. There are people walking in and out of the shops and hurdling together in the middle of the main street to talk and gossip. There are a few horses being sold, one man shouting out prizes louder than the other and so on.

“Look, there they are!” Niall points and he tugs on Louis’ sleeve. He pulls his friend along through the people until they are closer.

The officers are wearing bright red coats and they stand together in a group. A few of them are spread through the horses, brushing their manes and cleaning their hooves. Large puffs of vapour escape through the noses of the horses as they breathe in the chilly spring air. Their strong bodies are still wrapped in the thick blankets which protected them from the cold weather from the north.

Louis narrows his eyes as his inspects the officers. They all look a bit weathered and beaten, unlike the angelic features of Sir Styles. Louis nearly chokes on his own spit as soon as the thought pops up in his head. “They’re alright. A bit too rough for me though,” he quickly says.

“Yes, I think so too,” Niall nods. He turns his head and inhales deeply. “I smell food, Lou!”

Louis chuckles and nudges Niall’s elbow with his own. “You always smell food.” He stops walking and inhales the scent as well. “Roasted chestnuts?”

“Roasted chestnuts.” Niall beams.

Louis spots the stand and points at it. “There it is. If you wait here then I will go get us some, okay?”

Niall brings his hands up to his mouth and blows some warm air between them. His nose is cherry red and his cheeks are pink. “Okay, but hurry up because I am freezing. I thought March is supposed to be the month when everything turns green and warm again?”

“I guess not,” Louis shrugs and he pats Niall’s arm before he trots off.

The line in front of the chestnut stand isn’t long and Louis patiently waits until it’s his turn. “Good afternoon,” he greets the man behind the stand. “One pound of roasted chestnuts, please.”

“Do you want some honey on them as well, lad?” The man asks, his gloved hand picking up a few chestnuts and rolling them into a small bag.

When Louis shakes his head the man folds the bag and places it on the battered wood of the stand. “One pound twenty, please.”

Louis pushes his fingers into his pockets, feeling around for the pennies. He only feels a piece of paper from a candy but nothing which is round and smooth like money. He flushes a deep red once he realises he forgot to bring any.

He feels his trouser pockets and even the little pocket on his chest which he never uses but he doesn’t find any money. A rush of panic waves through him, feeling the eyes of everyone in the line behind him on his back. _Shit, shit, shit,_ he thinks to himself, fingers still anxiously digging into his pockets.

The man behind the stand starts frowning and clears his throat impatiently. His eyebrows are raised at Louis.

“I-I forgot, uhm,” he stutters, his fingers fumbling with one of the buttons on his coat.

Suddenly, a black-gloved hand drops some pennies onto the counter, one pound twenty in total. Louis’ eyes follow the gloved hand and they move up to a red sleeve until he looks up completely and meets the stranger’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, I have got you covered,” the stranger smiles.

Louis stutters, “T-Thank you, Sir.” He feels his cheeks heating up some more but this time it’s because the handsome stranger’s eyes studying him.

“It’s okay, love. What is your name?” the stranger asks him once they’ve moved away from the stand, Louis clutching onto his bag of chestnuts.

Louis looks up, feeling a little confused at the forwardness of the brown-haired man. Nevertheless, he mumbles out, “Louis Tomlinson, Sir.”

“Nice to meet you, Louis. Even though it’s not allowed,” the stranger winks at him which sets of a bout of nerves inside Louis’ stomach. “My name is Aiden, Aiden Grimshaw. I just came into town with this lot.” He gestures towards the other officers.

“O-Okay. It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Grimshaw. Thank you for paying my chestnuts. I will repay you as soon as I can.”

“If that means I get to see you again, then please, do repay me as soon as you can.” Mr. Grimshaw winks at him again and Louis’ insides do another turn-around which doesn’t feel as horrible as it sounds. He continues to stare at Mr. Grimshaw, a little in awe at his kindness and his behaviour.

“You should get back to your friend,” Mr. Grimshaw smiles, pointing at Niall who is waving his arms to catch Louis’ attention.

“I should,” Louis nods slowly, curtsying quickly for Mr. Grimshaw. “Thank you, again.”

“Don’t worry about it, Louis,” Mr. Grimshaw grins before walking off towards the other officers.

Louis walks back to Niall, tugging the collar of his coat  upright because rain has started to fall down heavily. He jiggles with the bag once he’s closer to his friend. “Got your food and embarrassed myself at the same time. This day sucks so far.”

Niall’s eyes light up as he takes the bag and opens it, stuffing a chestnut in his mouth. “Who was that man you were talking to?” He asks, chewing with his mouth open.

Louis just laughs at that and shrugs. “His name is Aiden Grimshaw and he’s one of the officers who came into town this morning. He paid for those chestnuts you’re munching on right now, so please, enjoy them.”

“Wow,” Niall’s eyes grow wide. “He paid for your food and talked to you without being introduced. Pretty forward but it sounds like your type of man.”

Louis cheeks heat up at Niall’s knowing grin and he snatches the bag of chestnuts from his friend, popping one into his mouth to avoid talking about it.

The rain starts falling down even harder and the main street empties quickly, the people going into the shops or they head home. Niall and Louis decide to go home as well and they hurry through the small streets.

They run underneath the trees to avoid the rain and it leaves them both panting for air once they’ve reached the gate of Louis’ house.

“That was fun!” Niall chirps, shaking his head and showering Louis with the water coming from his wet hair.

“Go take a hot bath before you die of a cold,” Louis smiles. They hug each other quickly before parting ways, making each other even wetter than they already are.

Louis runs onto the large front-yard and waves at Ms. Hill who just saved the last of the laundry. He hurries onto the steps and closes the front door behind him. He leans against the hard wood for a few seconds, catching his breath. His throat burns and his lungs are stinging inside his chest. There are drops of water sliding from his hair onto the floor and it only takes a minute before he’s standing in a small puddle.

Ms. Hill comes into the foyer, carrying the laundry in her arms and she gives Louis an endeared smile. “I heated up some water for a bath. I figured you would be cold.”

Louis lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Hill. I don’t know what I would be without you.”

“A popsicle probably, if you keep standing there.”

A smile breaks on Louis’ lips. “Probably.” He pushes himself off the door and runs up the stairs. He stops once he’s nearly at the top and turns back around towards Hill. “Is Zayn downstairs or is he in his room?” he asks.

The maid looks up at him with a look of confusion. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Louis shrugs.

“I guess you already left – but your brother received a letter from Ms. Swift. She asked if he could come over to dine with her, Mr. Payne and Sir Styles. Your mother sent him off on a horse about half an hour ago.”

“On a bloody horse?!” Louis exclaims, thunder rattling through the sky outside as he says it. “It’s practically a downpour. He’ll catch a cold or pneumonia!”

Ms. Hill just raises her eyebrows at him without saying anything. Louis fits the puzzle pieces together quickly.

“Of course,” he sighs, his shoulders slumping a little. “It’s all a part of my mother’s grand plan. He has to get sick so he can stay at Netherfield Park with Mr. Payne right there.” Louis shakes his head slowly. Zayn had always been someone to catch colds and fevers quickly and his mother had taken that into account when she sent him off on horseback to Netherfield Park.

Ms. Hill gives him a soothing smile before she walks out of the foyer to take care of the laundry she’s still holding in her arms. Louis lets out a frustrated groan and stomps up the stairs. He throws the door of the bathroom close behind him and peels his sticky wet clothes from his body.

Still shaking his head in disbelief, he lets himself sink into the tub. The water is still warm and it makes his numb toes tingle. The curtains in front of the window aren’t pulled close completely and Louis looks at the grey sky and the rain still falling down. He frowns, letting himself sink deeper into the tub.

He’s worried about Zayn and tells himself he’ll go by Netherfield Park tomorrow morning. The thought of Sir Styles and Ms. Swift being there doesn’t cross his mind once. He just wants to make sure his brother is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. What did you guys think of Mr. Aiden Grimshaw? *wiggles eyebrows*
> 
> The next update will have to wait a while, but I hope to get it up before the end of the week!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis arrives at Netherfield Park and has to deal with Harry. Awkwardness ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys will like this chapter! It has some more tension between Harry and Louis, which leads to some awkward moments. Enjoy!

The rising sun causes the colours on the horizon to liquefy, flowing over into each other like paints on a palette. Birds are singing their first song of the morning – the melody shrill and piercing. There is a mist covering the endless passages, a transparent veil to cover up the long grass waving in the wind. It’s an early morning and the cold gusts of wind are biting into Louis’ ruddy cheeks as he sets his feet firmly into the boggy ground. He wound a scarf around his neck, covering his chin and mouth and he breathes in the smell of the washed-out fabric. His breathing leaves his mouth in damp puffs, making his scarf a little wet and scratchy against his skin.

The walk to Netherfield Park is about six miles long but Louis does not mind the exercise. He quite enjoys walking on his own, when there is no one to interrupt his thoughts. Out here, no one is forcing him to say anything. He can breathe in the fresh air and run until his lungs are burning. Although it is not very proper for a young man to walk such a long way on his own; Louis could not care less on normal days and he definitely does not care right now – with Zayn being sick due to their mother’s schemes.

So he trudges on through the grass and the mud, only to continue his walk onto a paved road which leads up to the grand gates of Netherfield Park. The garden is beautiful, even during this time of year, but Louis pays no mind to it when he walks up the large front steps. The house is big and imposing, made up out of limestone brick with polished finishing where the roof begins. The front door seems designed to intimidate, large and painted a glossy black, with an ornate brass knocker in the shape of an lion. Louis swallows deeply before lifting up his hand to the knocker – but the door swings open before he can reach it.

A servant dressed in a black coat appears in front of him, his hair slicked back and curling at the end. “Can I help you?”

Louis curtsies before the man and nods, “Louis Tomlinson. I am here to inquire about my brother’s health, Zayn Tomlinson? He was invited here to dinner last night and he didn’t return home.”

The servant just nods curtly. “I’m afraid your brother has caught a fever and a cold. Mr. Payne insisted on taking care of him instead of letting him return home. I shall notify him of your visit.” He opens the door wider. Louis futilely tries to rub some mud off of his shoes before stepping inside the foyer.

Louis’ coat gets taken by another servant but he hardly notices it, his eyes are glued to the large paintings on the walls rising up above him. There is a beige, wide staircase with brass sculpted balustrades leading up to the first floor. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling casts small squares of light onto the hardwood floor.

He hears footsteps nearing and stands up a little straighter. His breathing hitches in his throat when he sees Sir Styles walking through the door into the hallway.

Sir Styles stops still in his step when he spots him. “Louis?” He clears his throat quickly. “I mean, Mr. Tomlinson. What a surprise to see you here.”

He doesn’t look perturbed or apprehensive about Louis being here, which gives the boy some confidence to speak. “Good morning, Sir Styles. I’m just here to inform about my brother, Zayn.”

Sir Styles nods, Louis sees his fingers tightening around the books he’s holding in his left hand. “Yes. I am afraid your brother has fallen ill. Liam is checking up on him as we speak – he will be down soon.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Louis mumbles, even though he doesn’t really know why he’s thanking him.

Sir Styles takes a step closer towards Louis, his green eyes studying the boy thoughtfully. “Did you _walk_ here?” he asks, frowning slightly.

Louis nods. “Yes, I did. It’s a lovely walk, not too long.”

Sir Styles scoffs. “Your brother rides a horse during a bloody downpour and you walk six miles in the early morning.” His eyes are still moving up and down Louis’ body.

Louis tries to resist the urge to pout but fails. “It’s a little less than six miles,” he sputters.

Sir Styles just raises his eyebrows, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Louis being unable to tear his eyes away from the tall man. The loud clacking of boots coming down the stairs breaks the awkward tension and Louis lifts his head to look up.

Mr. Payne is coming down the stairs, a worried expression on his face. However, when he sees Louis, a smile breaks through and he hurries down faster. “Mr. Tomlinson! What a delight to see you. Zayn would be relieved to know you’re here.”

Louis wonders why Mr. Payne and Zayn are suddenly on first-name basis. He shrugs it off, figuring it is probably inevitable when you’re living in someone else’s house. “Thank you, Mr. Payne. I’m sorry for calling on you so early, but I was worried about Zayn.”

Mr. Payne nods empathically before frowning at Harry. “Why didn’t you take Mr. Tomlinson up to see his brother? Now is really not the time to keep him to yourself, Styles.”

Louis watches Sir Styles’ cheeks flushing pink and he quickly turns his head back towards Mr. Payne. “I—uhm, you can call me Louis, if you’d like. I’m not big on formalities,” Louis offers with a small smile.

“Good, Louis it is then. You can call me Liam, of course, that goes without saying,” Liam gestures towards Sir Styles, “Make sure to call him Harry if you’d like, he often needs to be reminded that he’s way too young to be called Sir Styles by everyone.”

Harry chuckles softly. “Do I have any say in the matter of what the boy should call me?”

“No,” Liam decides with a grin, “No, you have not.” He turns towards Louis and extends his hand towards the staircase. “Normally I would offer you some tea and crumpets, but I think Zayn’s illness is an acceptable exception, hm?”

Louis smiles and nods. “Yes, Mr. P—Liam. Sorry, that will take some time getting used to. And I never eat in the mornings anyway – except on Sundays – so it’s perfectly fine.”

“You should.” Harry says sharply.

Louis turns around, looking a little confused. “I should, what?”

“Eat in the mornings,” Harry clarifies, an annoyed twitch around his mouth.

“I, uh,” Louis stutters, feeling himself shrink underneath Harry’s stare. “Like I said, on Sundays I eat breakfast,” he offers weakly.

Thankfully, Liam lies a heavy hand on his shoulder and nods dismissively at Harry. “Don’t mind him, Louis. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He guides Louis up the stairs towards the second floor.

Harry watches them both leave and his frown grows deeper. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he mumbles towards no one in particular before walking off towards the kitchen.

-

Liam and Louis walk across the large corridor and stop in front of one of the closed doors. “I put him in one of the best guestrooms,” Liam says, turning the knob and opening the door. He moves his body sideways to let Louis walk into the room first.

“Oh, Zaynie,” Louis murmurs, seeing his brother’s pale forehead just peeking out above the heap of blankets on top of him. He walks over towards the side of the bed, pulling some of the blankets down to reveal Zayn’s face. His brother is asleep up, his eyelashes fluttering just a bit.

Liam also walks further into the room and moves around the bed to sit on the chair on the other side of Zayn. “He looks even worse than yesterday,” he sighs, the worry evident in his voice. “I tried to get him some food, but he throws up everything he eats.”

“He needs a lot of lukewarm water, he likes that,” Louis mumbles, slowly wiping some hair away from Zayn’s sweaty forehead. “And some twigs of mint by his bedpost, it opens up his airways.”

Liam fervently nods. “Lukewarm water, mint, anything else?”

Louis snaps out of his mumblings and looks up at Liam, blushing a little. “Oh, um, I don’t really know anything about this, really. It’s just – whenever he’s sick at home, Hill always does these kind of things. They usually help because he’s rarely ill for longer than a week.”

“Then I suppose they work, right?” Liam says. “I know this may be a lot to ask of you, Louis – but would you consider staying here? Zayn needs someone to look after him and you know him better than anyone. I am sure he will appreciate your presence in this house.” He looks at Louis with big eyes.

Louis feels heat breaking out over his back but he’s already nodding without giving the offer a proper thought. “Y-Yes, of course. If you think that’s best for Zayn, I will. I do not want to be a burden, though.”

“Nonsense,” Liam shakes his head. “You won’t be a burden, Louis. Besides, Harry and Taylor are also here so there is no way you’ll be of a bigger burden than them,” he winks.

Louis offers him a small, thankful smile. He turns back towards Zayn, his thumb soothingly brushing over his brother’s unshaved stubble. Zayn’s nose crinkles a little but his eyelids are still closed, his dark eyelashes curling upwards.

Liam leans against one of the posts of the bed for a while, studying Zayn as well. He clears his throat after a few seconds. “If you need anything, Louis, or if you feel like having tea – just come to the drawing room. You can find me there. Also, I will send over a servant to Longbourn – have them pick up some clothing for you and Zayn, if that’s alright?”

Louis nods and gives Liam a smile. “Yes, please. Thank you, Liam.” The name still feels foreign on his tongue, but he likes it.

Before exiting the room, Liam gives Zayn’s sleeping body another once-over. The door closes behind him with a soft click and Louis hears his footsteps retreating.

He busies himself for a while with tidying the room, folding Zayn’s still damp clothes over a drying rack in the adjoining bathroom. He lets his fingers slide along the smooth marble of the bathtub. The towels feel softer to the touch than his own pillow does. Just when he’s about to inspect the gold faucets, he hears a weak, “Lou…?” coming from the bedroom.

Zayn’s eyes are open and scanning the room, and he visibly relaxes when he sees Louis coming out of the bathroom. “I thought I heard your voice earlier,” he smiles. His voice is raspy and sounds nasal.

“I’m here, Zayn. Couldn’t leave you alone in this house, with these people.” Louis sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand resting comfortingly on Zayn’s knee.

“Sorry ‘m sick,” Zayn mumbles, closing his eyes again.

Louis shrugs. “If anything, mother is to blame. Don’t worry about it, though. Liam will gladly keep you here and I’ll be here as well.”

“You’re staying?” Zayn opens his eyes again. He looks a little incredulous.

“Of course I am,” Louis frowns. “Like I said, ‘m not leaving you alone here.”

“But, Lou,” Zayn rasps, “Ms. Swift and Sir Styles are here as well. I know you don’t like them, so you don’t have to put up with them for me, okay? I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine if you stop talking with that wrecked throat of yours,” Louis says sharply, but he bends down to press a kiss against Zayn’s forehead. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle a couple of snobs for a few days.”

“But can they handle you?” Zayn smirks. His eyes are closed again, his features a little sagged with fatigue.

“Shut it,” Louis mutters with a fond smile. “They won’t kick me out anyway. Not when poor Zaynie is sick.”

-

When Zayn is fast asleep again, Louis leaves the room and makes his way downstairs. It takes him a while to find the drawing room but a helpful servant points him towards the right hallway. There are multiple family portraits hanging on the high walls, the ceiling also painted in a special way. It looks like you’re staring straight into heaven. Louis’ mouth is slightly open as his eyes are locked on the ceiling.

Suddenly he bumps into something solid and warm and he loses his footing. Large hands wrap around his middle, steadying him, and Louis looks up to meet the slightly wide eyes of Sir Harry Styles. Heat rushes to his cheeks and he wishes the white and black tiles would slide open and swallow him up.

“I’m so sorry, Sir. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Louis hastily mumbles, eyes fixed on the floor.

Harry straightens his jacket and tugs a loose curl behind his ear. “You may want to consider to look ahead of you when you walk instead of staring at the ceiling,” he says, eyes fixed on Louis.

Louis hums. “I know very well where to look when I walk, Sir. You just always catch me at my worst moments.”

“Yes,” Harry’s lips curve into a smile, “I guess one could sense a theme here.”

“You’re not supposed to do that,” Louis blurts.

“Do what?”

“Agreeing with me. You should say; ‘No, don’t worry about that. You don’t always have bad moments when we meet.’ You know, reassure me.” Louis’ cheeks are now the exact same shade they were last summer –  he fell asleep in the garden at noon and woke up with the worst sunburn ever.

Harry watches Louis intently, his gaze lingering on the boy’s fidgeting hands. “Do you need me to reassure you?” he asks, the words slow and slurred.

“I.. No. I don’t know what I am saying,” Louis hastily stutters, his mind wandering to a few specific thoughts of how Harry could reassure him. He feels his blood rushing southwards so he quickly turns around and walks away.

He doesn’t make it two steps because Harry’s hand – which is too large and too sexy – curls around the crook of his elbow, stopping him. “You know, I was only walking in this corridor because I was looking for you,” Harry says, once Louis turned around towards him again.

“Looking for me?” Louis asks, his mouth slightly ajar.

Harry nods. “Yes, and now that I’ve found you – I need you to follow me.” He turns around without waiting for Louis’ answer and walks off into another direction.

Louis quickly scrambles after him, having a hard time keeping up with Harry’s large steps. “Where are we going?” he asks, sounding a little apprehensive.

“You’ll see. Now, stop talking. I can’t hear myself think,” Harry says, the tails of his tailcoat swooshing a little due to his fast walking pace.

Louis just rolls his eyes but he keeps quiet as he follows Harry, turning one corner and walking into another corridor.

Harry stops in front of a door and he checks over his shoulder to see if Louis is still there. He pushes the door open and guides the smaller boy inside.

The rich smelling scents of herbs and freshly baked food fills Louis’ nostrils and his mouth waters. They are standing in one of the kitchens and there are multiple plates filled with food stalled out on the dining table. One of the cooks looks up and smiles at Louis and Harry, the latter giving a small wave. He guides Louis over towards the dining table.

Louis sits down on one of the chairs, still looking around him with a confused look on his face. “What is this?” he asks, his eyes stopping at one of the plates.

“This,” Harry sits down, “is what people call a proper breakfast. Something which every teenage boy should have, _every_ morning.”

A bubble of laughter escapes Louis’ lips. “You cannot be serious, Styles.”

Harry picks up a napkin and folds it over his lap with a dramatic gesture. “Trust me, I am,” he says, picking up his cutlery and slicing a sandwich into a smaller triangle.

“I don’t need you to feed me. I am not a bloody child,” Louis presses.

“No, you are a teenager,” Harry says slowly. “Teenagers grow and they are hungry.” He says it in such a matter-of-fact way which leaves Louis wondering if Harry is taking the piss out of him. He quickly dismisses that thought because there is no way someone like Sir Harry Styles is able to do that.

“Louis.”

Harry’s voice pushes Louis out of his thoughts and he’s a little surprised at how genuine it sounds.

“Just eat, okay? It would be a shame to let it go to waste, after all,” Harry shrugs.

Louis sighs and eventually nods, “Fine.” He grabs his fork and starts eating some scrambled egg. He lets out a moan at the wonderful taste.

“Do you like it?” Harry’s voice has a sudden hoarse sound to it.

“It’s so good,” Louis hums, not caring about the fact that he’s talking with his mouth full.

“I’m glad you like it,” Harry says slowly, before taking a bite of the sandwich. He chews slowly and Louis tries not to stare at his sharp jawbone.

“But seriously, why are you feeding me? It’s not like I was hungry or anything, and I am not skinny either, so—”

“If you’re going to be walking six miles, the least you can do is make sure you eat enough,” Harry states, leaving no room for discussion. “I do not know about your mother, but if it were up to me – I wouldn’t let you leave the house on an empty stomach ever again.”

Louis suddenly shoves his chair back, the wood screeching over the tiles. “Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t my mother then,” he blurts. “I can take care of myself just fine.” He stands up from his chair and walks away, letting the door of the kitchen fall close behind him. “You should mind your own fucking business,” he mutters once he’s out of Harry’s earshot.

He hastily walks through the corridor and slips into another room before Harry can come after him and woo him with his words.

Louis scoffs to himself, leaning against the door. He wonders why he even went along with Harry when he told him to come with him. Louis’ hands ball into fists and he closes his eyes. A frustrated groan leaves his lips. He prays to God Zayn gets better quickly so he can get the hell away from Sir Harry Styles and his good but strange concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be highly appreciated, because then I can stop crying about the Tumblr lay-out to reply to you lovelies! ♥


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis spends another day at Netherfield Park and somehow everyone gets on his nerves except Liam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Thanks a million to my beta smittenwithlouis because I was stuck and she gave me some wonderful ideas.  
> \- It's actually not betaed because I am an impatient little shit and I wanted to post it right away.
> 
> IMPORTANT: [this](https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-4hGA7EXuif0/UqdPHqlewlI/AAAAAAAAAqI/6gy5FzWDlfI/w1422-h804/403940-picture_26.png) is what Netherfield Park's backyard looks like.
> 
> Hope you guys will enjoy it!

When Louis wakes up the following morning the sun is peeking through a small gap between his curtains. He pulls up his blanket, wraps it around his shoulders and then slowly moves off the bed. A small hiss leaves his lips when his feet hit the cold wooden floorboards. He suddenly realises this isn’t his bedroom’s floor. There’s a small rush of panic waving through him and he turns his head quickly to scan the room. He sighs when he realises where he is, throwing the duvet off of him and back onto the bed.

Liam had sent a servant for some clothes yesterday and Louis tiptoes over to where they’re already hanging on silk hangers in the closet. He decides on a pair of black trousers with engraved buttons and a white shirt. While he’s pulling his socks up to just below his knees he wonders what time it is and if Zayn’s already awake.

He’s still hopping on one leg, trying to put his shoe on his left foot as he closes the door of the guestroom behind him. The hallways are quiet and some of the large doors which lead to the balconies are open. Fresh air is filling the corridors and Louis breathes in deeply. He stops at Zayn’s door and presses his ear against the wood to listen for any sounds. The handle of the door is cold in his hands when he pushes it down and slowly opens the door. He’s careful not to startle his ill brother with a sudden sound.

Zayn is still asleep, his hair fanning over the pillow like a halo around his head. His nose is red and his breathing comes out unsteadily through his parted lips. Louis reaches over towards the pocket watch on the nightstand and checks the time. It’s half past ten, two hours later than they normally get out of bed.

“Zaynie?” Louis whispers, placing his hand on Zayn’s shoulder and pressing a little.

Zayn’s usually gruff hum comes out as an odd-pitched whine and he turns over and away from Louis’ touch. “Leave me alone.”

Louis smiles at that, figuring Zayn mustn’t be too ill if he’s still mad at him for waking him up. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding very remorseful, “But it’s half past ten and you should eat something.”

“I don’t want to, ‘m not hungry,” Zayn grumbles hoarsely into his pillow.

“I know,” Louis nods patiently, “But if you don’t eat you will only feel worse. I’ll just go and find a sandwich for you, okay?”

“As long as you leave right now and let me sleep.”

Louis presses the palms of his hands against his knees before standing up. He gives Zayn’s hair a soft ruffle before he leaves the room.

-

After some exploring and mostly getting lost Louis finds the kitchen and walks inside to see if there is anyone around. He isn’t prepared to see Liam sitting at the counter. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his shoes kicked off and laying upside down on the white tiles.

“Oh!” Louis blushes, “Sorry, Liam. I just – never mind.” He turns to leave the kitchen.

“Louis, good morning,” Liam smiles broadly and he beckons Louis to come sit next to him. “I was wondering if you and Zayn were already awake. I didn’t want to send a servant to wake you two up.”

Louis smiles and walks over towards Liam and he sits down on the chair next to him. “I just woke Zayn up and told him I was going to get him some breakfast, but I can’t find a servant to help me,” he says, sneaking a quick glance at the newspaper Liam has spread out over the granite countertop.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Liam hops off his chair. “I will make something for Zayn.” When Louis moves to protest Liam shakes his head, “Really, Louis, it is no problem at all. I am just glad Zayn has some appetite again.”

“Well, he doesn’t,” Louis shrugs, “But he has to eat something, right? I was thinking about maybe a white bread sandwich, nothing too heavy.”

Liam nods fervently. “Excellent idea, I will get right to it. Do you want anything yourself?”

Louis cracks a small smile. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

Liam grins. “Oh right, I remember. You sent my best friend into quite a frenzy about that,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, well, Harry should mind his own business,” Louis stammers, slightly turning away from Liam to hide his pink cheeks.

“Hey, I do not blame you, Lou. Harry’s just – whatever he thinks is best should be applied to everyone according to him. I wouldn’t take it too personally,” Liam smiles friendly.

“It’s okay. I think I made myself pretty clear yesterday,” Louis shrugs and he reaches over to turn the newspaper a bit so he can read it.

“That you did. Harry was a proper mess when he came into the drawing room. I don’t think anyone who’s younger has ever told him _no_ before,” Liam is still smiling from ear to ear, like he’s enjoying this a lot. Louis figures he probably is.

“Do you maybe have any cheese? Zayn loves cheese on his sandwiches,” Louis says in an attempt to change the subject. Somehow he doesn’t feel so great after hearing Harry barely gets told _no_ and yet he was the one to reject him. Or rather, his breakfast. It makes Louis feel queasy inside and not like the good kind.

“Oh, Zayn likes cheese?” Liam beams, “I do, too. Cheese is great.”

“It is,” Louis says, flipping the page of the newspaper. The ink is still sticky, making the tops of his fingers black.

“If you don’t eat breakfast, would you like some tea instead? I just made a fresh pot and it’s still warm,” Liam offers, walking over towards the fire and holding up the pot of tea for Louis to see.

“Yes, I’d love to. Thank you, Liam,” Louis smiles. Liam moves to grab a cup for Louis and a few leaves to dip into the water and Louis remarks, “I did not expect you to do these things yourself.”

Liam looks up and walks over, carrying Louis’ cup like it’s a treasured prize. He places it on the counter. “What kind of things?”

Louis shrugs, taking the cup and warming his palms. “Making breakfast, offering me tea. After all, I have only been here for a day – and slept through half of it – and I have seen maybe ten servants already.”

“Oh, well,” Liam shrugs. “I have always liked to take care of my own things, you know? I like being outdoors a lot but with the cold lately I didn’t have much of a chance. I’m not very good at sitting still and read all day, so I just like doing things.” He walks back to the counter and finishes Zayn’s sandwich.

“I really like that,” Louis smiles. “You know, keeping busy with normal things instead of sitting around all day.”

“Thank you, Louis. That’s really kind,” Liam rests his hand on Louis’ shoulder and slides the plate with the sandwich over the counter. “I hope Zayn will like it.”

“I’m sure he will. And even though I don’t eat breakfast I will try not to take a bite on my way up. That’s how good it looks,” Louis grins.

Liam chuckles. “I’d go up with you but that won’t be proper. If you could tell Zayn I will stop by his room around noon? I would love to see if he’s getting a bit better already.”

“I’ll tell him to put some pants on but to leave his scruff. It looks good on him,” Louis says as he slides off his stool.

Liam blushes. “Yeah, um, you go do that. I’ll see you later, Louis.”

“Bye, Liam,” Louis says as he walks out the door and back into the large hallway.

His shoes scuff a little on the steps as he walks up the stairs, holding the plate with two hands. He hears another pair of feet moving down the stairs and he looks up to see who it is.

“Oh, Louis,” Harry’s eyes widen. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Harry,” Louis says, realising the name slipped through without realising it.

Harry smiles a little and then nods at the plate in Louis’ hands. “I see you took my advice,” he says smugly.

Louis just stares at those lips for a few seconds, curved into a knowing smile. He shakes his head, “No, um, this is for Zayn actually. There’s no need to be so pleased with yourself,” he mutters, wiggling a little uncomfortably underneath Harry’s stare.

He hears a small gush of breath, Harry smiling directly at him right now. “You know, kittens who show their teeth are still cute.”

Louis splutters. “I-I’m not a kitten! Excuse me,” he feels his blush spreading and he quickly moves past Harry. As he takes his last few steps he stomps his feet down heavily onto the stairs.

He thinks he hears Harry’s laughter down the stairs. “Prick,” he mutters half-heartedly, gripping the plate more tightly and walking over towards Zayn’s room.

His brother is sitting upright against the headboard, blowing his nose loudly into a handkerchief. “I’m not hungry,” he announces again when he sees Louis coming in. “So you can take that back down again.”

Louis ignores his brother’s protests and firmly places the plate onto his lap. “That just won’t do. Liam made it for you and I don’t want to know how his puppy eyes look when he’s disappointed. So if you don’t want it, I suggest you take it downstairs yourself.”

“Wow,” Zayn’s mumbles, “What’s gotten you all snappy? You were so cute half an hour ago.”

“Bloody hell, I am not cute!” Louis bursts out.

Zayn raises his eyebrows. “Not like that, you aren’t. What happened?” He pats the duvet invitingly.

Louis walks over and drapes himself dramatically onto the bed. “Stupid Harry made me eat breakfast yesterday. He kept giving me a sermon about how I am supposed to take care of myself. And just a few minutes ago – while I was carrying your fucking food – I ran into him on the stairs. He was all smug and stupid, thinking I was taking his advice. He even called me a cute kitten, Zayn. Who even does that?” Louis whines.

Zayn laughs, the sound hoarse and ugly. Louis takes advantage of it by stuffing a piece of the sandwich in his brother’s mouth. “Stop laughing at me.”

“You clearly have a thing for him, Lou. Normally when someone annoys you, you just shrug or you tell them straight on the spot,” Zayn says knowingly, chewing on his sandwich.

“Well, I did do that,” Louis objects.

Zayn hums and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, I think you threw a hissy fit. Maybe you squealed something in that high-pitched voice of yours and then you took off. Tell me, baby bro, am I right?” Zayn’s smile is even more smug than Harry’s was. Louis likes Harry’s one better.

“Just eat your sandwich. I’ve got something to tell you but you’re too busy teasing me,” he says, the whine still evident in his voice.

“You started about Harry,” Zayn mumbles, “But please, what did I miss?”

“Well,” Louis starts, “You know, the day before yesterday, when Niall came over to take us to town and you couldn’t go?”

Zayn nods, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Niall and I went into town and saw the officers. I met one of them, Zee, he paid for my chestnuts and he was so nice,” Louis smiles.

“Oh, that’s great,” Zayn says, “What’s his name?”

“Aiden Grimshaw. It has a sophisticated ring to it, am I right?” Louis licks his lips, “Granted, it’s no _Sir Harold Styles_ but it’s close.”

Zayn stops chewing. “Harry is short for Harold?” he asks confusedly.

Louis shrugs. “I don’t know, I just thought it sounded pretty. I mean, no one would call their kid just plain Harry, right? Especially not if he’s from such a rich background.”

“Wow. You’ve really put some thought into it,” Zayn’s smug smile is back on his lips.

“Shut up, you started about Harry. I was talking about Aiden Grimshaw.”

“Technically you mentioned Harry first – again – but please, do go on,” Zayn flicks his hand.

“Right. Well, he was wearing his uniform and red is totally his colour. He looked very young and he didn’t care about not being properly introduced. He said he wanted to meet me again,” Louis beams.

“He did?” Zayn frowns slightly, “Lou, I’m not sure if that’s – ”

“He was being friendly and spontaneous, Zayn. He isn’t so uptight like some of the other men in town, like Harry for instance.”

Zayn nearly chokes on his sandwich. “You mentioned him again!” he says, pointing at Louis accusingly. “You do like him, come on Lou, own up!”

“I-I,” Louis stammers, “Whose side are you even on, Zayn? I’m talking about _Aiden_. Has all the snot clogged your ears, too?”

“No, it hasn’t,” Zayn grins widely, his tongue pressed against the back of his front teeth. “All I’m hearing is _Harry, Harry, Harry_ and whenever you mention this Aiden person it just gives you more reason to mention Harry.”

Louis groans and closes his eyes for a moment. “I can’t believe you. You’re supposed to be my brother and gush along with me about Aiden.”

“I’m trying to, but Harry Styles keeps wriggling his way into the conversation,” Zayn wiggles his eyebrows. “I wonder how that’s possible?”

“That’s it,” Louis pouts, wriggling his way down the bed and standing up. “You’re mean to me, Harry’s mean to basically everyone – I’m going outside,” he announces.

“Come on, Loubear. I didn’t mean it,” Zayn smiles, patting the bed again.

Louis shakes his head. “No. You go be sick on your own. Liam will keep you company around noon anyways, so you should probably get dressed.”

Zayn’s eyes widen. “Liam’s coming?” He stretches over towards his night stand and picks up his pocket watch. “That’s in fifteen minutes, Lou!”

“Try not to choke on your snot while you dress yourself,” Louis smiles coyly. “Bye, Zee!”

He leaves Zayn spluttering inside the room and closes the door behind him.

-

He makes his way downstairs again, the sun streaming in through the windows. Louis looks at the garden and the few flowers who are brave enough to face the lingering cold still in the air. He doesn’t go back upstairs to put on his coat and hopes for the best when he steps outside.

The air is cold but pleasant against his cheeks, which have been red and heated ever since he saw Harry on the stairs. He tugs his lower lip in between his teeth and walks down the large plateau. The grit scrunches underneath his shoes as he walks towards the centre of the garden. There is a large fountain with marble statues of strong looking warriors and horses spewing water into the large basin underneath. Louis stands there for a while, studying the details of the sculptures.

With every deep breath he takes he feels himself calming down more. He wonders if he was maybe acting a little bratty towards Zayn, his sick brother clearly feels worse than he does. One glance up at the sun tells him it’s nearly noon so there is no point in going back upstairs to apologise. He will probably just interrupt Zayn and Liam and he doesn’t want to give his brother more reason to scold him.

He walks a little further into the garden, the trees rising up high above him. Birds are singing their songs brightly. Louis whistles a few times and smiles when the birds chirp back at him.

There’s a stone railing at the end of the garden which gives a beautiful view of the green hills and pastures surrounding the estate. Louis walks closer, ignoring the cold biting at the nape of his neck. There are a few large potted plants placed on top of the railing. The flowers can handle the cold well because they’re bright and bring a lively colour to the garden. Once Louis is close enough he reaches up his hand and lets his fingers slide along the leaves.

It’s only then when he realises he’s not alone. Harry is sitting on the railing just a few feet away from him. His long legs dangle over the side and he’s quietly watching Louis.

“Oh, um, hi. Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Louis says. He wills his heart rate to calm down. _It’s just Harry_ , he tells himself.

“I know. I didn’t figure you would come this close if you saw me,” Harry says simply, a smile gracing his lips.

When Louis just scuffs his shoe along the gravel Harry speaks up again. “I didn’t think you would be outside right now. You were bringing Zayn his breakfast just twenty minutes ago.”

Louis wonders how Harry can jump from being rude, to caring, to obnoxious, to flirty, to actually _normal_ in the span of just a few hours. He clears his throat. “Yeah, I got a little annoyed with him, so I left the room,” he says. He walks over towards Harry and cocks his hip, leaning against the stone railing. “He was being a proper know-all.”

“About what?” Harry holds up his hands in mock defence. “If I may be so bold.”

Louis gives him a small smile, wrapping his arms tighter around his upper body to keep some warmth centred. “It’s okay, it’s not really important. It wasn’t even worth me leaving the room but, hell, I don’t know. He just drove me crazy.”

“Like I do?” Harry asks.

Louis looks up, opens his mouth to answer right away. He doesn’t, though, and presses his lips tightly on top of each other to keep quiet.

Harry notices and laughs, the sound rich and warm. “It’s okay, Louis. You can say whatever you want.”

Louis shrugs, suddenly not knowing what to say anymore. _Damn you, Harry Styles_ , he thinks to himself. He never goes speechless and now it happens and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Thankfully Harry lets him be and points at the horizon. “Do you see that group of trees?” he asks.

Louis shuffles a little bit closer, leaning his arms on the railing. Harry’s hip is against his elbow but he doesn’t move it. He squints a little as he looks into the distance. “Yeah, I see them.”

“I went out riding yesterday morning,” Harry tells him, his legs still dangling slightly like a child who can’t sit still. “And I saw this swing hanging from one of the trees. You know, like one of those very simple swings. It was just a plate of wood and two ends of rope tied around a branch.”

Louis smiles and nods. “We have one in the backyard as well.”

Harry looks sideways at him. “I’m jealous. I remember asking my father over and over for one when I was younger. After all, Pemberley has a big forest on the estate itself. But my father was unrelenting,” he shrugs.

Louis frowns slightly. “Why? What’s wrong with a swing?”

“I think my childhood was a little different than yours, Lou,” Harry says with a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “My father usually planned my days very meticulously. I spent my time studying and learning how to hunt and ride a horse.”

Louis snorts. “Sounds fun.”

Harry laughs and shrugs. “It wasn’t that bad. I have had a better childhood than others. Basically I am just being stupid – whining about a swing I didn’t have. And to you, no less. You already think so highly of me,” Harry raises his eyebrows sarcastically.

Louis raises his hands. “Your words, not mine.”

“Well, how can I know what you think of me if you don’t talk, Louis?” Harry asks, his voice soft.

Louis suddenly feels like there are thousands of eyes looking his way and he feels like crawling away. “I am talking to you right now,” he says. It’s a stupid response, he knows damn well what Harry means. Louis isn’t saying what he thinks.

Harry doesn’t push it, once again, and swings his legs over the railing and jumps off. He stands next to Louis. “You know,” he says, sounding contemplative, “You shouldn’t go out without a coat, Louis. I know it’s nearly April but summer is still very far away.”

“I know what month it is, Harry. I’m not an idiot,” Louis snips. He feels some tension slipping back into him.

“I’m not questioning your abilities to know the months by heart, love,” Harry says, unfazed by Louis remark. “All I’m asking you is to take it into account whenever you go outside.”

“I’m not your _love_ ,” Louis mumbles, mostly to himself.

However, he doesn’t object when Harry suddenly shrugs off his coat and holds it open. Louis unwraps his arms from around his torso and lets them slide into the sleeves. Harry fixes the coat a little and tugs it straighter around him.

Louis lets the warmth envelop him and sighs a little. The sleeves are too long for his arms so he pulls up his hands inside them. He presses his nose in the collar. The fresh scent of being outside clings to the fabric as well as something slightly muskier. Somehow he hopes it’s Harry’s scent.

“Thank you, Harry,” he says, giving Harry a genuine smile.

“You’re welcome, Louis. Stop worrying about everything.”

Louis wants to asks what Harry means by that but deep down he knows what the older man is talking about. So instead of snapping again, he just breathes in and out a few times and feels himself calming down. He looks up at Harry and smiles once again,  hopes Harry gets him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be lovingly drooled upon!


	7. Author's Note

Hi there!

 

I've abandoned this fic a bit lately, which makes me feel quite shitty about myself. My beta gave me a heads up about the sudden interest in it, which is of course great! It made me feel all tingly and fluttery inside, so gracias for that. I will start writing the new chapter tomorrow and hope to have it up by Saturday evening or Sunday evening GMT. 

 

Thanks for the positive feed-back and take care xo


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Zayn return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- First of all, I want to say sorry for the huge delay. I will crawl away in shame after I've posted the chapter.  
> \- Thank you for the amazing support! I really didn't expect so many people to read it and to like it. It makes me very happy.  
> \- Not beta-read again because I am an impatient little shit.
> 
> The chapter is from Harry's POV, and I hope you guys will like it!

Harry inhales and exhales slowly, lets the fresh morning air wave over him. The sun is hidden behind thick heaps of clouds and birds are chirping in the trees. He opens the door of his balcony further, stepping outside. There is something calm about waking up here and having the countryside greeting him every morning. Pemberley is surrounded by the woods which limit his view of the horizon. But Netherfield Park is situated on one of the hills in the wavy landscape. The view is nearly endless. Harry leans his hip against the stone balustrade and lets his arms rest on top of it. His skin grows colder but he doesn’t mind – it wakes him up. His robe is falling open slightly, the cold air sliding down his chest and hardening his nipples. He winds it tighter around his body, looks at the view one last time before stepping inside again.

The carpet is soft against the soles of his feet as he walks over towards his bed. His clothes are laid out and he hums a soft tune as he dresses himself. He tugs on the laces at the back of his boots and ties them tightly to make sure they won’t slip down.

When he walks through the corridor to go downstairs,  he passes Zayn’s room and hears the eldest Tomlinson laugh.

“Loueh, wha’ are you doin’?”

Louis’ sputtering is muffled through the door but Harry can clearly hear the boy’s bright voice when he says, “I’m trying to shave that jungle on your chin! Now sit still because I won’t clean up the blood if I slit your throat.”

Harry chuckles softly and continues to walk through the corridor towards the stairs. He walks down the steps, his fingers lightly walking along the oak handrail until he’s downstairs.

Zayn has been improving the last couple of days and he even joined them for dinner last night, although he didn’t eat a lot. Harry had noticed Louis trying to be as civil and proper as possible but he couldn’t help but tease Zayn every time his brother’s voice squeaked a little. Harry had found it funny.

He walks into the dining room and gives Taylor a short bow before sitting down at the table.

“Morning.”

Taylor smiles, “You look rather tired,” she remarks.

Harry lets a servant drape a napkin over his lap. “Do I?” He picks up his cutlery and takes a bite of his scrambled eggs.

“You do,” Taylor nods. “Although I do not blame you. The house is rather crowded these days.” The disdain his her voice is clearly noticeable.

“I think Liam could have five hundred guests staying here in his house and it still wouldn’t be crowded,” Harry says, sipping from his glass of orange juice before taking another bite.

“Well, the presence of those five hundred guests could very well be equivalent to one Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry scoffs and fidgets with one of his curls. “Don’t be ridiculous. We have hardly seen him in the past few days.”

“Indeed, he holes himself up in the library or in his brother’s room. Still, I am glad he is returning home this afternoon,” Taylor says matter-of-factly. She beckons for a servant to refill her glass.

“I really don’t see what your problem with him is,” Harry says, putting his fork down. “And how do you know he and Zayn are returning home today?”

Taylor shrugs and Harry has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying the gesture isn’t very lady-like.

“He has this air around him, like he thinks he’s better than all of us. Which – must I state the obvious? – is entirely not true. He goes around acting like nothing is worthy of his attention or his time. Don’t you see that, Harry? Surely it must annoy you too? ”

Harry feels his mouth twitching. “Sometimes,” he relents. The stiff collar of his shirt pokes the skin underneath his jawline. “But he is a teenager and isn’t from the same circle we grew up in. If he thinks he is better than us then he should go ahead and do that. If he is so low and unimportant to you, why do you care?”

Taylor’s eyebrows curl in a thoughtful manner. The necklace around her neck shimmers in the light of the chandelier. “Funny,” she hums.

Harry resists the urge to rolls his eyes at her. “What is?”

“You,” Taylor smiles. It isn’t her usual, coy smile, but it’s that teasing smile whenever she’s probing for a confession or a secret from someone. “I think,” she continues, picking up her glass, “you have grown rather fond of the boy.”

“He’s easy to be around,” Harry says after he’s swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “Not so hung up on decorum and stuff like that.”

Taylor laughs. “Says the man with the most impeccable manners of everyone in this house.”

Harry just gives her a stern look. He stays quiet and folds his hands. His lips murmur a quick prayer and he then slides his chair backwards. “I hope you have a lovely day, m’lady,” he says as he walks out of the room. He hardly ate any of his breakfast but the way Taylor makes him sick to his stomach – he isn’t even hungry anymore.

He walks back into the hallway and thinks about what he’s supposed to do now. It’s too early to go out riding, his hair is still wet from his bath and he’ll freeze. Harry thinks about all the letters still waiting for him to answer but he can’t be bothered with business right now. He’s about to search for Landon, his hunting companion, but Liam’s voice stops him.

“Harry, there you are!” his friend calls out once he’s turned the corner.

Harry smiles and walks towards Liam. “Morning.” He studies Liam’s face and notices his friend’s slightly off expression. “You alright?”

Liam sighs and threads his fingers through his messy hair. “Didn’t sleep too well. Zayn and Louis are returning home in about one and a half hour.”

“So soon?” Harry’s eyes widen. “Taylor mentioned it but I thought she was joking.”

Liam shakes his head. “She wasn’t joking, they’re returning home today. Louis insisted on it. I spoke to Zayn as well last night, he’s still a bit pale and his voice isn’t quite right but other than that – he’s healthy again.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say for a few seconds so he just mumbles, “Oh, well.”

Liam fidgets a little as well. “They’re upstairs, if you want to, uh – say goodbye or something.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods absentmindedly, “I guess I will go do that, thanks.” He turns around and walks into the direction of the stairs.

Before he walks up the first step he turns around to Liam and smiles, “Hey, Li.” Liam’s brown puppy eyes look up at him. “Don’t worry,” Harry smiles, “Zayn’s so gone for you, he will return soon enough.”

Liam flushes a bright pink and sputters a little. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Haz.” He pauses for a second. “Thanks, though.”

Harry nods and smiles at Liam again before walking further up the stairs. There are sounds coming from Zayn’s room when Harry walks towards the door. He knocks twice and waits.

“Come in!” Zayn’s voice croaks.

Harry opens the door and steps inside. “Good morning Zayn,” he greets the eldest Tomlinson. “Busy packing I see?”

Zayn blows a strand of hair out of his face before smiling at Harry. “Yes, I am. Louis was supposed to help me but he ran off to the library,” he rolls his eyes.

“Oh, why is that?”

Zayn shrugs. “It’s basically Liam’s fault.” Harry sees the way Zayn can’t suppress his smile when he says Liam’s name. “He told him to go find some books to take home. Seriously, he didn’t have to tell him twice because Louis ran out of the room like it was on fire. So now I am here, packing my stuff all by myself.”

Harry smiles at Zayn’s dramatic sigh. “You know how these younger boys can be,” he simply says, trailing his index-finger along the stitched pattern on the sheets of the bed.

Zayn snorts. “Louis really isn’t that young. He just acts childish and is tiny,” he states, folding another pair of pants.

Harry grins. “Or that, yeah. Listen, I just wanted to say goodbye – Liam told me you two were leaving in about an hour?”

Zayn nods. “Yes, Louis was very impatient to leave, although I don’t know why. And I wonder how quick we’re _actually_ going to leave because he’s lingering in the library for half an hour already.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry says, walking over to Zayn. “Anyway, I wanted to wish you a safe journey home and I hope you’ll fully recover soon.”

Zayn smiles, his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. “Thank you, Harry. That’s very kind. I’m sure we will see each other soon enough, at a ball perhaps?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. There is some business I have to attend to so I’ll return to Pemberley soon, the day after tomorrow probably.”

“Oh,” Zayn hums. “Well, Lou is going to be disappointed.”

“Sorry?” Harry frowns, thinking he must’ve misheard the Tomlinson boy.

“N-Nothing, never mind,” Zayn quickly says, his fingers faltering on a button of the shirt he’s folding. “I’ll uh, see you downstairs later, right?”

Harry stays quiet for a while, studying Zayn, before slowly nodding. “Alright.” He moves towards the door and gives Zayn a smile. “Good luck packing.”

“Thanks Harry,” Zayn nods.

Harry closes the door of the bedroom behind him and walks across the corridor towards the stairs again. As he walks up towards the second floor, he thinks about Zayn’s words – more specifically, what the boy said about Louis.

It’s no longer a surprise to Harry that he seems to like Louis a lot more than he should. He also knows he shouldn’t get too involved, especially not because Louis is younger, poorer and born in a lower class of society. What he should do is stay away, but that is the problem – he can’t. He wants to hear Louis’ voice, hear him talk about things he likes, things he hates and he wants his presence near. It’s alarming but at the same time it feels too good to worry about. Harry doesn’t even know what to think and to do anymore, and that’s something that does freak him out.

He walks towards the library and pushes the heavy door open. The scent of the old leather-bound books and the lingering cigar smoke fills his nostrils. The sunlight streams through the window, showing the dust in the air and making it look like a grainy, cracked painting.

It’s quiet and Harry wonders if Louis has gone downstairs already – until he suddenly hears a loud clattering of books falling onto the floor and a muttered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He’ll forever deny that the sound which left his lips was a giggle. He walks further into the room and skips a few rows of bookcases. His smile grows wider when he sees Louis sitting on his butt, amidst at least thirty books scattered all around him.

“You alright there?” he asks simply.

Louis startles and looks up. “Oh! Harry, oh thank God. I thought it was Liam.” He stares hopelessly at the books around him. “He’s going to kill me if he sees this.”

Harry snorts. “Probably not, don’t worry. I remember one time, when Liam and I were kids – we were playing a game of tag and Liam ran into one of the statues in the gallery hall of Pemberley. He decapitated my great-great-grandfather.” He lowers his head solemnly.

At Louis’ stunned expression Harry bursts out in laughter, startled by the sound himself. He hasn’t laughed this hard in a while. “I’m just messing with you,” he smiles. “Although Liam did break three of the fingers.”

Louis shifts a little, a small pout still on his lips. “Yes well, very funny but it’s not helping me at the moment. Are you good with your hands?”

Harry grins. “I am.” It’s only three seconds later when he realises, “Oh! You want me to help you clean up.”

Louis stares quietly at him. “Yes, duh. Why else would I ask such a question?” He rolls his eyes at Harry and clambers to his feet. He bows down to pick up the first few books and places them on top of each other.

Harry doesn’t try to avert his eyes from Louis’ plump arse and just hums, “Never mind.” He walks closer and crouches down near the books as well, placing them on top of each other. Louis straightens himself and takes the books Harry hands him, sliding them back onto the shelf.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Louis eventually asks, holding his hands out for the books.

Their fingers brush when Harry hands him another five books. “I heard you were leaving in a bit, wanted to say goodbye.”

Louis hums dismissively, turning his back to Harry as he places the books back on the shelves, pushing them tightly against the other books. “Well then, goodbye,” he mutters stubbornly.

Harry sighs, his fingers curling around the leather cover of a book he’s holding. “Louis, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” Louis’ tone is defiant.

“Shutting me out. I liked having you around here,” Harry says simply, the tone of his voice gentle.

Louis scowls. “I’m not shutting you out, Styles. I barely even know you. Five days in which you can’t seem to leave me alone don’t change that fact.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitches. “Okay,” he says, standing up from where he was sitting on the floor. “At least that’s clear then.”

Just when he’s about to walk away, Louis softly tugs on the sleeve of his jacket. “No, don’t go – just. Fuck, I don’t know Harry,” he sighs. “I liked it too, being here. I shouldn’t, because I absolutely loathe Tayl—never mind.” Louis flushes a little in shame.

Harry smiles. “It’s okay. Like I told you, right? You can say whatever you want.”

“That’s what I mean,” Louis sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. “These past few days you’ve been too..” he trails off.

“Too, what?” Harry asks.

“Too nice, okay?” Louis snips. “You’re not that big of a dick as you were when we met.”

Harry can’t help but grin a little at Louis’ crude words. “Thanks, Lou, very nice,” he says dryly.

“That’s what I mean!” Louis’ voice cracks and he almost squeals the words. “If you could’ve just stayed mean and cold and distant it would be much easier to dislike you and to stay away from you.”

“What if I don’t want you to stay away from me?” Harry lets the question hang in the air.

After a few silent seconds, he takes a step towards Louis. The boy simultaneously takes a step back, away from Harry. His back touches the bookcase.

Harry could count Louis’ eyelashes if he wanted to. Instead he keeps his eyes firmly set on Louis’. He places his hands on the bookshelf behind Louis, bracketing the boy between his arms. They’re close, too close, and Harry knows he should be the one to reel himself in and step away. He doesn’t, though.

“What if,” he continues, his voice soft and low, only for Louis to hear, “I don’t want you to go?”

Louis stays silent and Harry sees the way his mouth slightly falls open, a stunned and confused expression waving over the boy’s face. He watches Louis’ Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

The sound of a door slamming close somewhere on the same floor startles them both and Harry instinctively pulls his hands back to his sides. He steps away from Louis.

“If,” Louis’ voice is still a bit squeaky, “If everything you say is true—”

“It is.”

“—then I would say you’ve lost your mind, Sir Styles. Excuse me.” Louis bows curtly, his hands clenching around the two books he’s holding. He disappears behind the bookcases. A few seconds later Harry hears the door of the library opening and closing loudly.

He sighs deeply and rests his head against the bookcase. He turns his face a bit, the wood is cold against his heated cheek. Everything he was determined to never say out loud, he just said to Louis. Of course the boy is freaked out, of course. Harry shakes his head and scoffs at himself.

-

He manages to pull himself together after a while and when he arrives downstairs in the hallway, Louis and Zayn are about to leave. Liam looks up and smiles, “Oh, there you are! I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

Harry walks towards them and doesn’t meet Louis’ eyes. “Yes, I was upstairs, taking care of some stuff.”

“Stuff? Right,” Taylor’s voice is taunting and Harry resists the urge to shove past her with his elbow.

Liam turns back towards Zayn and Louis, placing his hands on either of the boys shoulders. “It was lovely having you both here, although the circumstances weren’t so great,” he nods at Zayn. “I hope to see you both soon, and send my best regards to your family.”

“Thank you Liam,” Zayn smiles, rocking back and forth a little like he’s reluctant to leave. Louis, however, looks like he wants to run out of the front door as soon as it opens.

“And thank you for staying here Louis, you have been a great help and I very much enjoyed your presence in my house,” Liam says to Louis, smiling gently.

Louis’ pursed lips curve into a genuine smile for Liam. “You’re welcome. I, um, I liked staying here. A lot.” Harry doesn’t miss the way Louis’ eyes flick up to meet his.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Liam nods.

Two servants appear with Louis’ and Zayn’s bags and they open the door to go outside. The small group follows, Zayn talking to Taylor about the next ball in town and Louis taking over his own bag from one of the servants. Harry smiles at the boy’s stubbornness.

The bags are being placed in the carriage and last goodbyes are exchanged. Liam helps Zayn into the carriage, holding onto his hand and releasing once the eldest Tomlinson is seated.

Harry feels his feet move before he realises it and he’s next to Louis. He holds his hand out for the boy. Louis bites his lower lip but he takes Harry’s hand, holding tightly onto his fingers until he sits. Harry brings Louis’ hand up to his lips and presses a chaste kiss against his knuckles. He tells himself how much he’s lost it but the thoughts evaporate when Louis gives him a small smile, his cheeks blooming pink.

Liam and Taylor stand by his side as they wave after the carriage. When the carriage disappears through the gate and down the road, Harry turns around and walks back inside.

“You kissed his hand.”

Harry bites on the inside of his cheek and he turns around. “Yes, Taylor. I kissed his hand, what a great observation!”

Taylor laughs. “No need to get all angry, I just want to kno—”

“Taylor,” Liam voice is stern. “That’s enough.”

Taylor’s eyes switch between Harry and Liam. She throws her hands up in the air. “Fine. I’m just saying…” she says, her voice trailing off as she walks into the drawing room.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles to Liam.

Liam shrugs. “It’s okay. You know she’s mostly just annoyed that you aren’t straight. She takes it out on Louis too, I guess.”

Harry wants to frown and jump in but he’s tired and his limbs are weighing him down. He just nods. “Yes, I think so too. If you don’t mind, I’m going to lie down for a bit.”

Liam hums. “Okay, you should do that. Bit pale in the cheeks,” he pinches Harry’s cheeks and wiggles them.

If it weren’t for Liam’s adorable smile Harry would’ve slapped his hands away. Now, he patiently bears it. “I’ll meet you and Taylor in the drawing room later, okay?” he asks when Liam is done with his cheeks.

“Sure. See you later,” Liam smiles and he walks off into the direction Taylor just went in.

Harry reaches the second floor and instead of going to his room, he goes into the other corridor. He sees a servant carrying sheets and asks them, “Are you cleaning the rooms?”

“Yes, Sir. I just finished cleaning Zayn Tomlinson’s room. Is there a problem?” she asks.

Harry shakes his head, “No, no problem, Miss. If you could clean Louis Tomlinson’s room later today, though?”

The servant doesn’t ask questions and simply nods. “Yes, Sir, of course.”

“Thank you,” Harry smiles, “Excuse me.”

He walks past her and further down the hallway he opens the door of what was Louis’ room. He closes the door behind him and looks around.

Everything is clean and neat, but there isn’t the smell of the stale soap which usually hangs in the air of the guestrooms. It’s one of the few indicators that Louis was actually here.

Harry walks over towards the bed and sits down on top of the sheets. There’s a book on the nightstand and he picks it up. It’s _Robinson Crusoe_ and Harry can’t help but smile. Louis had put a bookmark in the book and Harry opens it. He settles a pillow against the headboard, crosses his legs on the bed and starts reading where Louis left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed-back is lovingly drooled upon! :)


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- A big thank you to my beautiful beta [smittenwithlouis](http://www.smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) for always helping me out with ideas.  
> \- It's quite a long chapter because I felt like it.  
> \- I don't know if anyone recognised the change in the rating of this fic - but there will be some smut in this chapter.   
> \- Harry is awesome.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it!

 

Louis is sitting on the stone railing, his feet dangling over the edge. The sun has set behind the trees already, marking the skies in a pinkish colour. It is getting colder, the temperature dropping gradually. Louis wraps his arms around his upper body and stares into the distance.

He startles a little when two hands gently slide around his waist. He doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. The curls tickling at the nape of his neck and the fresh scent of cologne tells him more than enough. “Harry,” he chuckles breathily, relaxing into the older man’s touch. “I thought you were working inside.”

 “Finished earlier,” Harry mutters, his warm lips pressed against the skin of Louis’ neck. His arms tighten around the boy’s waist. “Saw you sitting out here shivering. You really should put on a coat, love.”

Louis smiles. “You’re here now. Why don’t you keep me warm?”

Harry’s chuckle is low and fond and he pulls the boy against his chest. Together they stare at the landscape spread out in front of them.

Harry lets his hands slide absent-mindedly across Louis’ tummy, from his chest to his hips and back up again. Louis chews on his lower-lip, feels his blood streaming faster. Harry’s scent is all around him and he curves his head, pressing his lips against the side of Harry’s jaw. He hears the older man hum and he doubles his efforts, sucking softly on the skin.

“Louis…” Harry murmurs. His hands stop wandering for a second but then his fingers rub against Louis’ nipples through the fabric of his shirt.

The boy lets out a soft moan, sinking further against Harry’s chest and curving his own chest into Harry’s hands. “Again?”

His whisper is barely audible but Harry hears it. He slides his hands down Louis’ upper body, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of the boy’s pants before they move back up.

Louis keens when Harry rubs his nipples again, feels them hardening to small buds. “Fuck,” he whispers.

 “You like that, baby?” Harry’s fingers move down again, softly tugging Louis’ shirt out of his pants. He slides his hands underneath the shirt and Louis moans at the feeling of Harry’s warm hands roaming across his tummy.

Louis squeaks when Harry drops his hands underneath his thighs, lifting his legs and turning him around to face him. He is a little breathless when his eyes meet Harry’s. The older man slowly studies his face, a hint of a smile on his lips before he leans in.

“I didn’t hear your answer, love,” he says, his hands now covering Louis’ back. “Do you like it?”

Louis nods, his cheeks burning red. “Y-Yes, fuck.” His voice hitches when Harry’s hands slide underneath the waistband of his pants, cupping his arse cheeks and squeezing them.

Harry pulls him closer, their groins connecting and Louis shamelessly moans into the older man’s ear. He lifts up his legs and hooks them around Harry’s hips, slowly grinding against the other man.

“Aren’t you impatient, little one,” Harry grins but he curves his hips just right, making Louis groan breathily because of the friction on his hardening cock.

“Please, Harry,” Louis whispers against Harry’s lips, his neck tilting upwards to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Whatever you want, princess.” Harry leans in and presses his lips against Louis’—

 

“Louis, for God’s sake!”

Louis startles awake and sees Zayn jumping out of the bed. “What?” he asks, suddenly aware of his surroundings.

“You were moaning Harry’s name in your sleep,” Zayn frowns, shaking his head. 

The images of his dream come flooding back and Louis is suddenly reminded of his morning erection straining against the fabric of his pants. He drops his head into his hands, feeling completely mortified. “Oh God, Zayn, I’m so sorry,” he groans against the palms of his hands.

Zayn hums, “You should be. I wasn’t supposed to be awake for another thirty minutes.”

“I know, I know.” Louis drops his head into his pillow. “If you tell anyone, like Niall for instance, I will kill you.”

Zayn grins. “Alright, I won’t tell him about your crush on a certain Sir. But under one condition,” he says, holding up his index-finger.

“And that is?” Louis asks cautiously.

“You’re coming along with me for grocery shopping and you get to carry everything,” Zayn says, seeming quite pleased with himself.

“Isn’t that Hill’s job?” Louis groans, already feeling his muscles ache.

“Hill caught a cold, probably because of me. Mum said we should get out of the house, so we’re stuck with it bro.”

“But I don’t wanna,” Louis whines.

“It’s either carrying groceries or I’ll tell Niall and possibly Liam as well if I feel like it.”

“Fine, fine! I’ll go,” Louis says hastily. “Just a few more minutes.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and grabs some clothes from his closet. “I’ll take a bath in the other bathroom so you can use this one. Get up, Lou,” he says, before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Louis rolls onto his tummy, his cheeks still burning with shame. He bites down on his lower lip as he grinds his hips into the mattress. A shaky moan leaves his lips anyway and Louis fists one hand in the sheets. He brings the other down and circles his cock with his fingers, pre-cum dripping down the head. As his hand starts tugging on his erection Louis tries the hardest not to make any sounds. He doesn’t remember being this turned on and the images of the dream are still lingering in his head. The tension in his stomach builds up rapidly and Louis is gasping for air as he finds his release. He goes completely boneless for a few seconds, not caring about the fact that he’s lying in his own cum. His hand is sticky and he wipes it on the sheet. It doesn’t matter because he had to wash it anyway.

After a few minutes of catching his breath, he rolls off of the bed and strips off the dirty sheets. He leaves them in a bundle on the floor and goes into the bathroom for his bath.

He carries the dirty laundry down the hallway and puts them in the large basket in his parents’ room. If Zayn brings up the fresh sheets tonight Louis will pretend he didn’t hear him.

He skips down the stairs and sees Zayn already standing in the hallway, holding up the grocery basket for him. His brother just smiles at him and says, “I like those suspenders on you.”

Louis twirls one time to show them off and then grins. “Thanks. You bought them for me.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “That’s why I like them,” he laughs.

After Louis drinks his morning cup of tea, they put on their coats, take some money and Louis holds the basket as they step outside.

**-**

The town square is busy like it always is and Louis waves at a few people he knows from his school days. There are a few officers walking around and Louis eyes them carefully but he doesn’t spot Aiden. Zayn is summing up all the shops they still have to go to and Louis listens half-heartedly, walking alongside his brother.

“Let’s go in here,” Zayn suddenly says, pointing at a shop.

“Sure,” Louis nods, following Zayn inside.

It’s a small store and it’s warm inside, Louis unbuttoning the top button of his coat. Zayn is talking to the lady at the counter and together they’re studying some fabrics. Louis figures Zayn is probably picking out some new scarves to tie around his neck, even though their mother keeps repeating how it makes him look provocative. He looks at some fabrics himself, sliding his finger along the soft fibres. There’s one black fabric with white stitching which looks like something Harry wore at the ball. Louis smiles to himself, thinking about how Harry probably wouldn’t choose his scarves from a tiny village shop like this.

The bell of the shop rings when the door opens. Louis vaguely recognises footsteps coming in his direction but his eyes are still focused on the fabrics and the ribbons hanging from the ceiling.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Louis!”

Louis turns around and meets a pair of brown eyes. Aiden Grimshaw. “H-Hi, Officer Grimshaw,” he makes a shaky curtsy.

“Oh, Louis, I told you already to call me Aiden. Although I forgive you for forgetting. After all I haven’t seen you in like two weeks. Where’ve you been?” Aiden talks really fast and his smile is plastered onto his face.

“Um, my brother was sick at Netherfield Park and I stayed with him,” Louis says, suddenly feeling liking squirming away under Aiden’s stare.

“That’s so sweet of you, Lou!” Aiden says, reaching out and rubbing Louis’ shoulder.

“Thank you. I’ll introduce you to him if you want?” Louis asks, moving away.

Aiden nods. “Yes, of course. I’d love to know who your family is,” he says. He looks up and spots Zayn at the counter. “Is that him?”

“Yes, that’s Zayn. I know, he looks way too pretty to be related to me but he’s definitely my brother,” Louis smiles sheepishly.

“Says the boy with the most beautiful eyes and curves I have ever seen,” Aiden grins, his eyes moving up and down Louis’ body.

Louis blushes and walks towards Zayn, tugging on his brother’s sleeve. “Ehm, I want you to meet Aiden.”

Zayn’s eyebrows rise. “He’s here?”

Louis nods and gestures over his shoulder to where Aiden’s standing.

Zayn hums and hands some money to the lady behind the counter. He picks up the rolls of fabric he bought. “Basket?” he asks.

Louis lifts it and Zayn puts the fabrics in the basket, giving the lady behind the counter a smile. “Now, let’s go meet the infamous Aiden Grimshaw,” he says to Louis.

Louis steps towards Aiden. “Aiden, this is my brother, Zayn Tomlinson. Zayn, this is Aiden Grimshaw.”

“Nice to meet you, Zayn,” Aiden grins, bowing curtly.

Zayn doesn’t smile. “Nice to meet you too, Mister Grimshaw,” he says.

“Oh, formal. Alright,” Aiden’s smile doesn’t waver. “Doing some shopping, I see? I like those fabrics a lot. ”

Zayn nods. “Just the usual.”

“Mind if I join?” Aiden asks.

Zayn chews his lower lip for a second, his eyes flicking between Louis and Aiden. “Actually—” he begins.

“Of course not,” Louis cuts him off, turning towards Aiden. “We’d love for you to join us. We have already visited most of the shops but there are still a few left.”

Aiden holds out an arm for him and Louis slips his hands in the crook of his elbow. He throws Zayn a look over his shoulders and mouths soundlessly, “Be nice.”

They go into a few more shops, Louis and Aiden carelessly chatting away while Zayn buys everything they need. Louis has to laugh when Aiden tells him about Newcastle and how cold it was up there.

“I have never been to Newcastle. Is it nice?”

Aiden nods, his hand sliding to Louis’ back to manoeuver him through the people. The square is even busier than it was earlier and there are groups of people chatting everywhere.

“It’s very beautiful, the river is cold though, so don’t go for a swim when you’re there,” he says.

“The river?” Louis asks.

Aiden nods. “Yes, the river Tyne flows through Newcastle. It’s a big river with a strong current. When we were there one morning, there was a child which had waded too far and couldn’t make his way back. Me and two other fellas had to jump in to rescue him.”

Louis’ eyes grow wide. “Really?”

“Yes. Quite heroic, might I add,” Aiden winks.

Louis laughs back at him. “Yes, it is! Is he okay, the child?”

“Um, I think so,” Aiden shrugs. “We brought him back to his mother and she took him home, but I reckon he was alright. Just wet and very cold.”

“You’re such a hero, Aiden,” Zayn says, suddenly popping up next to them. “We should be kissing your feet.”

Louis senses the sarcasm dripping through Zayn’s words but Aiden clearly doesn’t. He laughs loudly and claps Zayn’s back heartily, nearly sending the eldest Tomlinson to the ground.

“Careful with my brother, Miste—Aiden. He’s a bit fragile,” Louis jokes.

Zayn grumbles and straightens his coat. “Do I need to remind you of a certain event which happened this morning?”

Louis’ smile quickly fades and he shakes his head. “No.”

Aiden is gesturing to someone across the square, and then he turns to Louis. “If you will excuse me for just a minute, Louis. I think someone from my battalion needs me.”

Louis nods. “Yes, of course. Don’t keep them waiting,” he smiles.

“I’d rather not keep _you_ waiting, if you don’t mind,” Aiden grins before he turns around and walks away.

When Louis turns back around he catches the last glimpse of Zayn’s scowl. “Okay, spit it out,” he says, crossing his arms, “why are you acting like Aiden’s carrying a disease?”

Zayn shrugs. “No reason.”

“Zaynie,” Louis pouts, siding up next to his brother. “I know you never dislike someone without a good reason. Let’s face it, you love everyone. So what’s it about Aiden that you don’t like?”

Zayn sighs, treading a hand through his head. “I just.. I’ve heard some rumours about him, Lou. He’s not a good guy.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you the person who always says not to judge someone by the opinion of others?”

Zayn nods. “I am. But now that I’ve been in his company for over an hour, I can take my own conclusions. Louis, he is flirting with you.”

“So?” Louis asks, a defiant edge to his voice which always creeps in whenever he starts to get annoyed.

“So, you barely know him. And the rumours about him are pretty incriminating.”

“God, Zayn, he’s just being nice! Not everyone has evil motives behind everything that they do. Aiden is a nice guy – granted he doesn’t really care about social conduct, but a nice person nevertheless.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” Zayn says softly.

“Who’s getting hurt?” Aiden suddenly asks, standing next to Louis.

“No one’s getting hurt,” Louis says curtly. “Let’s go home Zayn, I’m tired and my feet are sore.”

Zayn sighs. “Fine, let’s go—hey, isn’t that Liam?” He points at a shop across the street.

Louis follows the direction his brother’s pointing in and nods. “Yes, that’s him,” he turns back around, meeting Zayn’s pleading eyes. “Fine,” he groans, “we’ll go over.”

“Does your brother have a thing for Liam Payne?” Aiden asks him as they’re walking across the street. The smile is evident in his voice.

Louis shrugs. “No, they’re just friends. Zayn has thrown up over Liam’s shoes just about a week ago.”

“Oh, I see,” Aiden hums.

“Leeyum!” Zayn calls out once they’ve reached the other side of the street.

Louis sees Liam’s head whirling around at the sound of his name. The man’s face lights up when he spots Zayn. It’s only then that Louis realises who Liam’s with and he trips over his own feet.

“Woah there, let’s keep you up,” Aiden chuckles, holding his arm around Louis’ shoulders.

Louis barely hears him, his eyes fixed on the broad shoulders and long legs of Sir Harry Styles. He hasn’t seen him since the Library Incident – as he calls it in his head – and after the dream he had this morning he’s feeling a bit shaky.

“Zayn and Louis, what a lovely coincidence!” Liam smiles, bowing before them. Louis and Zayn curtsy and smile back.

“How are you feeling, Zayn? I know it’s been over a week already but I still worry sometimes,” Liam asks.

Zayn blushes slightly. “I feel perfectly fine, thank you, Liam.”

Liam nods. “I’m glad,” he turns towards Louis, “And how have you been, Louis? I see you’ve brought your friend along?”

Louis meets Harry’s eyes for a second, the older man looking a bit pensive at him and Aiden. “Yes, t-this is Aiden Grimshaw. He’s one of the officers who arrived in town a few weeks ago.”

“Ah,” Liam smiles, “The brave men guarding our country. Pleasure to meet you, Mister Grimshaw.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Aiden says, dropping his hand from Louis’ shoulder to give Liam a bow.

They talk for a while about the weather, last Sunday’s sermon and the regiment in town, and Harry stays silent throughout the whole conversation. Louis wonders if he’s angry, if he’s done something wrong which caused Harry to ignore him right now. He searches his brain but all he can come up with is that Harry regrets cornering him in the library. Louis can’t blame him. A strong, powerful man like Harry Styles shouldn’t be wasting his time on poor village boys with a big mouth.

“Louis, isn’t that basket a little heavy for you to carry?” Harry’s sudden question startle Louis out of his thoughts.

He stammers a bit before muttering timidly, “I, um, it’s okay. It’s not that heavy.” He looks up to meet Harry’s gaze. The green eyes of the older man are studying him slowly and he gives Louis a smile.

Somehow Louis feels a wave of relief flooding through his body, now that he knows Harry isn’t upset with him. He doesn’t like the fact that the other man’s approval is so important to him but it’s a feeling he can’t shake.

“Louis, love, he’s right.” Aiden’s voice bursts his bubble of thoughts. “Let me get that,” he offers, holding his hand out to take the basket from Louis.

Louis sees a small frown forming above Harry’s eyes as he studies Aiden, but he hands over the basket to him. “Thank you, Aiden.”

“I really wish we could talk longer,” Zayn says, “But there is some food in the basket which needs to be brought home quickly, before it spoils.”

Liam nods. “We understand, you boys should go home. It’s almost noon.”

They say their goodbyes to each other, Liam and Zayn taking their time. When Louis turns around to walk away, long fingers curl around his wrist and keep him still.

Aiden and Zayn turn around to see where he is, Louis quickly says, “I’ll catch up with you later.” He hates how squeaky his voice sounds.

He sees Aiden’s eyes flicking to Harry, who is standing behind him, but then both he and Zayn nod and continue walking.

“Just a second, Liam,” Harry says to Liam. Liam shrugs and walks off to where their carriage awaits.

When their friends are out of sight, Louis exhales shakily and turns back to Harry. “You aren’t very subtle,” he mumbles.

Harry smiles. “I’ve been told,” he pauses for a while. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Louis.”

Louis shrugs. “It has only been nine days, Sir.”

“I’m back to being Sir now?” Harry asks, his eyes not leaving Louis’ face.

“We’re in public,” Louis says, aware of the countless pairs of eyes watching him and Harry. “I can’t call you Harry out here.”

Harry hums. “That’s true. But tell me, Louis. Who was that man?”

“Um, that was Aiden Grimshaw, Sir. I introduced him ten minutes ago.”

“I know his name, Louis, I am not deaf.” Harry’s voice isn’t sharp but it isn’t friendly either. “I’m just wondering what he is to you.”

“T-to me?” Louis asks, feeling his heart beating loudly in his chest.

“To you,” Harry nods.

Louis wipes his sweaty palms on his coat. “Well, um, he’s my friend. I only talked to him for the second time today but he’s very nice.”

“Okay,” Harry hums. “Do all of your friends call you _love_ , Louis?”

“You once called me _love_ ,” Louis blurts, “I think twice even.”

Harry smiles broadly, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. “That I did. Which is also the reason why I don’t want anyone else to call you that way.”

Louis stares at Harry in disbelief for a second. “Are you taking the piss out of me right now?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

Louis scoffs and sinks into one hip, placing his hand in his side. “I can’t believe you. I’m not some property you’ve laid your claim on, Har—Sir. If you don’t want him to call me _love_ then I suggest you go tell him yourself.”

Harry smiles, completely unfazed by Louis’ small tantrum. “That’s the thing, I’d rather you tell him.”

Louis shuffles on his feet. “I need to get back, I don’t have time for this. Why do I have to tell him myself?”

Harry takes his hand and Louis instinctively wants to tug it back, aware of the people watching him. Harry holds on, though, and brings his knuckles up to his lips. The kiss is feather light yet turns Louis’ knees into mush. “Because I know you only want me to call you that way.”

“How do you know?” Louis mutters, putting his hands in his pockets self-consciously.

Harry smiles. “Those blue eyes of yours tell me more than you think, love.” He gives Louis one last glance before turning around and walking away.

-

After a fifteen minute walk during which he was busy muttering abuse about Harry fucking Styles, Louis arrives home. Zayn’s in the kitchen, showing the cook and the maids what he’s bought. He looks up when Louis flops down on one of the chairs. “Oh, there you are. You’re late, your other lover has already returned to his regiment.”

“He isn’t my lover and neither is Harry,” Louis grumbles, picking up a fork and poking holes into the bread Zayn bought.

When Zayn notices he snatches the bread out of his reach and stacks it safely in one of the cupboards. “It doesn’t matter, baby bro. But if you need my advice, I’d say you should go for the one with actual manners.”

“I don’t have anyone ‘to go for’, Zayn. I don’t like him, or Aiden.”

Zayn snorts. “Right, because people always have wet dreams about people they dislike.”

Louis slams the fork down onto the table. “You said you wouldn’t bring it up!”

“I wasn’t going to,” Zayn laughs, “But seeing you blush and stutter the second you saw Harry – it was too hilarious. I think you even scared off Aiden with the hearts in your eyes, which isn’t a bad thing.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Louis groans. “Harry Styles is leading me on, okay? I can’t do anything about it.”

“You can,” Zayn points out, chewing on a piece of cheese. “You just don’t want to.” When Louis opens his mouth to protest, Zayn quickly says, “And that’s okay, Lou. I understand.”

Surprised by his brother’s sudden serious tone, Louis asks, “You do?”

Zayn shrugs. “You don’t think I am enjoying Liam’s attention? I can practically wipe the drool of off his face, even when I am throwing up his omelettes. It’s okay to enjoy it. It’s a different thing to have expectations.”

“I think Harry wants me to have expectations,” Louis mumbles, a confused twitch around his mouth.

“Could be,” Zayn says, “But Louis, rich guys never go for the poor boy. It’s that simple. So enjoy his attention but whatever he says – don’t trust him with your heart.”

“Pot, kettle, man. I could say the same thing about you and Liam.”

Zayn nods. “I know. I guess we both have to watch out, because unlike mum, I don’t believe Liam would actually go for me. And sure, it’s a nice fantasy to think he will but it’s never gonna happen.”

Louis nods. “I know. We’ll just have to wait for ordinary men with ordinary income to sweep us off our feet.” He says it without much conviction. Because, if anything, Harry doesn’t want him to go for other men. He made that pretty clear this morning.

And even though Louis doesn’t know why – doesn’t know what the older man sees in him – he doesn’t want to let him down. So if he falls asleep that night with Harry being his last thought, he doesn’t feel guilty. He enjoys it as much as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed-back would be great!
> 
> Come say "Hi!" on my [tumblr](http://www.hazza-andtommo.tumblr.com), I'll bake cookies. :)


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sorry for the long wait. I had the idea in my head but I just couldn't get myself to sit down and to write it. Thank you all for your beautiful patience.  
> \- It passed 200 kudos, wow! I might sound stupid but it's a big thing for me. (◡‿◡✿)  
> \- Louis and Zayn will have a fight in this story because I don't want the sappy Jane Austen connection which Jane and Lizzie had in P&P. I want to make it a bit more natural, and sibling do get into heated fights.
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

Louis has been on edge all day, frustration spiking under his skin and making him frown. It started with Zayn getting out of bed in the middle of the night, shoving Louis’ not-so-gently awake as well. He had begun stumbling through the room, knocking into a chair by the window and sending a bunch of books crashing to the floor. By then, Louis had already been willing to bash his brother’s skull in with one of them. He couldn’t sleep anymore after that either so his day began with four hours of sleep and that is never promising.

Zayn was a pain in the arse at breakfast, after breakfast, during lunch, after lunch and Louis is pretty sure there are now indents of his nails in the armrests of his chair. His brother couldn’t sit still, running through the house one minute and the next minute he was plopping down on Louis’ lap to demand for his attention with annoying questions and sarcastic jibes about Harry. The first few times, Louis had shrugged him off and continued reading. It became increasingly harder as the hours passed and Zayn still didn’t show any signs of his mood improving. And Louis was just left hoping it soon would, because he felt his toes and fingers curling in anger every time Zayn mentioned Harry with a nagging edge to his voice.

But his brother’s mood didn’t improve in the slightest. It only got worse and Louis was about to pull his hair out and stuff it down Zayn’s throat to make the older boy shut up.

“Lou.”

“I’m reading, leave me alone. Whatever it is, I am sure it’s not that big of a deal. There isn’t much that could’ve happened in the span of the five minutes that you’ve left me alone today.”

“But I have a question.”

Louis sighs, closing his book and sliding it between his knees to keep it there. “What is it this time?” he asks, gritting his teeth. His fingers slide along the leather binding of the book.

“Do you think people who are born on the 29th of February only have their birthday once every four years?” Zayn’s eyes are full of question.

Louis groans in frustration and something inside of him snaps. He grabs his book, and slings it in Zayn’s direction. “I don’t care!”

“Jesus Christ,” Zayn yelps as he avoids the book. “I’m just asking!”

“You’ve been asking stupid stuff for over an hour, fuck off,” Louis exclaims.

“What is going on in here?” Mrs. Tomlinson walks into the drawing room. She bends down to pick up the book Louis threw and frowns at the folded pages. “Louis, this was a gift! You can’t go around throwing books for no reason.”

“The reason is that Zayn won’t stop bugging me,” Louis voice squeals a bit. “He’s been running through the house ever since he woke up at four in the morning, go yell at him instead of me!”

“Don’t be so overly dramatic Louis,” Zayn groans, stomping out of the room. “Save that for your lovers,” he calls down the hallway.

“Louis, don’t—” his mother begins, but Louis is already jumping out of his chair and storming out of the room.

“I don’t have lovers, you insufferable twat, so stop saying that!”

“You jump pretty fast towards your defence, little one,” Zayn yells down the stairway.

“Don’t call me that.” Louis stomps with his foot on the floor, the tiles cold against his socked feet.

“Why not? Do you only want Styles to call you like that? You’re so fucking pathetic to think you have a chance with him!”

“Says you! If anyone was already on first name basis after three days, it was you and Liam! There was a time you didn’t even let Niall call you by your first name even though you’ve known him your entire life.”

“That’s not true!” Zayn turns around and comes rushing down the stairs.

“It is and you fucking know it, so don’t call me out on what I do! Why the hell are you even bringing this up now, what’s bugging you so bad that you have to take it out on me?”

Zayn’s eyes darken and he opens his mouth again but their father’s thunderous voice beats him to it. “That’s enough boys!”

Louis stares angrily at Zayn but he takes a step back, his hands curling into fists at his side. His fingernails dig painfully in the soft palms of his hands but he doesn’t care – it’s a nice distraction to keep himself from swinging his fist against Zayn’s jaw.

“What in the world is going on with you two today? I haven’t heard you fight this bad for a long time,” Paul says, crossing his arms. “I demand an explanation and I want it now. Otherwise I will tell Miss Hill to take the rest of the day off and leave the household to both of you. Spill it.”

Louis takes a deep breath, tries to calm down to explain himself but all he manages is an indignant yelp, “He started it!”

Paul rolls his eyes at that. “That doesn’t help me with anything, Louis. _What_ happened?”

Zayn shrugs, his collarbones rising and dipping underneath the thin shirt he’s wearing. “Louis is being prissy because he didn’t get his beauty sleep.”

“Thanks to you,” Louis adds.

“I couldn’t sleep anymore – you kept talking on and on about Harry Styles in your sleep and it’s fucking _annoying_ because I don’t even want to hear it when I am awake, let alone when I try to sleep,” Zayn grits out between his teeth.

“That’s not true,” Louis gasps, “You’re talking shit, I didn’t even dream about him tonight!”

“I heard you loud and clear and the kind of stuff you said about him will make every dead person turn around in their grave,” Zayn bites, his jaw tensed.

Paul stares at his sons and eventually clears his throat. “I can see your point of view, Zayn, it’s not nice if Louis interrupts your sleep. But on the other hand, your brother can’t help talking in his sleep, he’s done it before. It doesn’t give you the reason to bother him all day.”

“He bothers me at night so I bother him during the day,” Zayn states, crossing his arms.

Louis scoffs. “You’re such a fucking child, I can’t believe you’re the eldest. Seriously, Zayn? I talk in my sleep – something I can’t do anything about – and you decide to give me payback for that? I thought you were supposed to be the mature one here!”

“I am,” Zayn frowns, “I don’t have wet dreams every other night, unlike you.”

“Okay!” Paul interrupts. “That is too much information. I think both of you need some time apart because this,” he gestures between them, “isn’t going to work out. Louis, I’ve heard a shocking amount of obscenities falling from your mouth the past fifteen minutes so you’re going to church tonight.”

A startled laugh escapes Louis’ lips. “What – do I have to go and pray for forgiveness because my brother pissed me off beyond extent?”

Paul swallows. “No,” he says patiently, “You’ll go to church and be reminded of why you shouldn’t use such words lightly.”

“Then Zayn should go, too!” Louis gestures towards his brother, who is still leaning on the railing of the staircase. “Zayn said _Jesus Christ_ without reason.”

“I was actually starting a prayer to Him – begging to make you a mute,” Zayn says, idly checking his nails.

“Zayn,” Paul says sternly, his fingers reach underneath Zayn’s chin to lift his gaze to him. “Enough with the attitude. I know you’re annoyed and tired, but then go upstairs, take a quick nap and then you can go do the household by yourself.”

Zayn scowls. “Why do I have to clean the house and Louis gets to go to church?”

Paul raises his eyebrows. “Do you _want_ to go to church?”

Louis butts in, “No, he just wants to see Liam so he has enough visuals in his head when he wanks off in the mornings.”

“Louis!” Paul barks, “Those kind of thoughts and that kind of language is _exactly_ why you’re going to church! Go put on some decent clothes so you can be on time for the six o’clock service. You can eat your dinner afterwards.”

Louis clears his throat and walks towards the stairs, his shoulder hitting against Zayn’s in purpose.

“I love you, Loubear,” Zayn sarcastically calls out after him.

“Fuck off!”

Paul groans. “Louis – church, _now_.”

-

Louis is still fuming as he makes his way towards church. The days are getting longer again so the sun is just about to set, casting a beautiful orange glow on the road. His fingers curl around the worn leather of his Bible and he ducks his nose in the collar of his coat. When he comes closer towards the village square where the church is, he sees a few more people making their way to church. It’s a Wednesday, and the Wednesday evening service isn’t attended in big numbers. Louis prepares for two hours of trying to keep his eyes open.

His gaze is currently scanning the people gathering in front of the church. He’s heard a few gossips about Liam and Harry often attending the evening service on this day – and he feels enough malice towards Zayn to spread some gossip about him to Liam. He wonders if he’ll actually do it, but the thought gives him some comfort. Liam is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Harry. There is a heavy feeling settling in his stomach when he realises he probably won’t see the tall and curly haired man tonight. He walks towards the church and nods at the presbyter standing by the door.

“Good evening, Louis,” the man smiles at him. “Are you alone? I thought your father or at least your brother would accompany you to church?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, it’s just me tonight, Sir.”

“Yes, well,” the presbyter clears his throat, “Be careful when you walk home after the service, okay? Usually it’s safe out here the entire night but nowadays, with the regiment being in town, I’d rather you would have someone accompany you later.”

“Oh, I’ll be quite fine,” Louis starts to assure the elderly man.

“Sir Walsh, it delights me to see that you take the health and safety of the youngest of our community so seriously.”

At the sound of the deep voice Louis closes his eyes. A smile curves at his lips as he turns around.

“Sir Styles, popping up out of nowhere. As always,” he says, curtsying coyly for the older man, who looks quite pleased at that.

“Good evening, little one,” Harry nods at him, turning towards the presbyter again, “I shall bring the boy home after the service. It is not entirely proper but we should not let him walk alone after dark.”

“Sir Styles, a respectable man as yourself would be most suitable for the job,” the presbyter nods quickly, “I’ve known the youngest Mister Tomlinson his entire life and I am sure he will be safe with you.”

Louis is already walking inside while Harry talks to Mister Walsh, shrugging of his thick coat in the cloakroom. The smell of old leather and candlewax fills the air and he inhales deeply, leaning against the wall for a bit. He gives Harry a small smile when the older man also steps inside the church, a servant by his side to take his coat.

“You suddenly disappeared on me. One of your habits, I presume?” Harry asks, raising one eyebrow.

Louis shrugs. “You were too busy talking _about_ me instead of _to_ me, so I figured I wasn’t needed.”

Harry chuckles. “You shouldn’t think so lowly of yourself, pet. Now, can you tell me why you’re here all alone? Mister Walsh might be overly concerned about you but he is right – you shouldn’t be alone at this time.”

Louis flushes crimson red. “I, erm. It was a punishment.” As he sees Harry’s smile widening in amusement, he quickly adds, “No, I don’t want to talk about it.” He walks past Harry but stops before he walks towards the rows of benches, looking to see if the older man follows him.

“You have seriously sparked my curiosity now,” Harry says, walking next to Louis and guiding him to a bench in the back of the church. “I think you’ll find the opportunity during the service to explain it all to me.”

“I literally just said I didn’t want to,” Louis points out.

“I don’t care,” Harry gives him a full smile now, dimples on display, and Louis throat goes dry. “Liam and Taylor are here as well but I think you’d better ignore the latter.”

Louis can’t stop a snort and grins at his shoes. He feels Harry’s hand at the small of his back – pushes away the idea that it almost looks like Harry’s courting him – and lets himself be guided into the right row.

“Good evening, Mister Payne,” Louis smiles, sitting down in the seat next to Liam.

“Louis, how lovely to see you!” Liam’s voice is definitely too loud for church but no one even thinks about admonishing him for it. After all, every word coming from Liam’s mouth is heavily gossiped about. Him talking loudly only makes it easier for the villagers.

“Miss Swift,” Louis mumbles, nodding at the blonde woman.

“Lewis,” she acknowledges with an even shorter nod. “You didn’t bring your lovely brother, I see?”

Louis meets Liam’s eyes, the same question painted in them. He shakes his head. “No, I erm, I came alone. Zayn had some things he was busy with tonight. But maybe he’ll come to the next service,” he says, smiling at Liam who visibly relaxes.

“Well, I had hoped he’d be here as well so I could tell the both of you,” Liam smiles, taking his Bible and placing it in front of him.

“Tell what?” Louis asks, perking up.

Suddenly the organ starts playing and the chatter dies down, people shuffling straight in their seats. The vicar walks into the church, down the aisle and goes up on the tribune.

Louis feels his cheeks reddening up when Harry leans in, curls tickling the side of his face.

“Liam is going to hold a ball on Saturday, at Netherfield Park,” Harry whispers in his ear.

“Really?” Louis beams, cringing a little at the loud sound of his voice. “That’s amazing, his house is perfect for a ball.”

Harry smiles. “So you will come to the ball then, little one?”

Louis nods, “I think so, yes. Of course, I would have to talk to my mother and father about it but I am sure it won’t be a problem, right?”

Liam leans in as well. “Of course it’s not a problem, Louis. Your whole family is invited. I was planning on going by your house tomorrow afternoon to deliver the invitation personally but now I reckon I won’t have to,” he says.

“I think Zayn would like it if you came anyway,” Louis mutters, his voice barely audible over the loud melody of the organ.

He and Liam share a small smile before Liam nods. “Then I think I will come by Longbourn around noon tomorrow, will that be okay?”

“Yes, that would be lovely,” Louis nods. He considers sending Zayn off tomorrow afternoon because he’s still angry with his brother – but then Liam would make the journey for nothing and he doesn’t want that. He truly is too sweet for this world, he thinks to himself.

Louis tries to pay attention to the rest of the service but it’s difficult because Harry’s deep singing voice sets off a low stirring in his gut. He needs to resist the urge to squirm and nibbles on his lower lip until it’s raw.

The vicar is about to start his sermon when Harry leans in again. “I’m very happy you will be there on Saturday, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” Louis whispers.

The corners of Harry’s mouth fall slightly and Louis decides he doesn’t like that. Harry asks, “Why not? You were okay with it last week.”

Louis worries his lower lip between his teeth for a second. “I still am,” he mumbles, partly because he doesn’t want people to hear it and partly because he doesn’t want to admit it. “It’s just – we’re in public, Sir. You can’t flirt with me in public.”

Harry’s soft laughter feels like a wave of warmth around Louis. “I’m not flirting with you.”

Louis gives him a disbelieving look. “Sure you’re not. I probably should keep my distance anyway.”

“Why’s that?” Harry asks, his eyes flicking between the vicar who is reading from Psalm 43 to Louis.

“Erm,” Louis stutters, “I.. Never mind. Me and Zayn got in a fight today,” he says quickly. He can’t tell complete truth about his doubts over Harry’s intentions to the man himself.

“You and Zayn, in a fight?” Harry’s lips curve into a smile. “What about, might I ask?”

Louis shrugs. “Just stuff. He was being mean and annoying to me all day and I snapped. I yelled a lot of bad words so that’s why I am here.” He feels Harry’s eyes on him as he says it and his cheeks burn even redder.

“Bad words,” Harry repeats slowly, “Louis, are you saying that your obscenities got you in trouble so bad that your parents sent you to church?” He’s full on smiling at Louis right now, clearly enjoying this.

“It was just my father who sent me,” Louis mutters weakly to his defence. “But, yeah.”

Harry hums. “I never thought you’d have a dirty mouth.”

Louis gulps, staring at the vicar like he can get the answers from him. “Sir, we’re in church,” he hisses.

“Don’t worry, though. It will probably come in handy one day,” Harry continues as if he didn’t even hear Louis.

Louis lies his head down on the edge of the bench in front of him, praying for his blood to stream slower and to will his cock to calm down. He glares at Harry from underneath his lashes but the older man has his arms crossed, looking complacent. Louis would hate him if he didn’t like him so much.

Luckily Harry doesn’t say anything for the rest of the service, but his thigh is against Louis’ for the remainder. It drives Louis crazy but at the same time he doesn’t pull his leg away. The contradictions in his head make him sleepy.

-

When Harry walks him home later, Louis doesn’t protest when the older man winds his own scarf around Louis’ neck. It is not even that cold outside anymore but Louis enjoys the attention and the fondness in Harry’s eyes.

“I’m really looking forward to the ball. I have even dreamt about it one time I think, probably when I was at Netherfield Park for Zayn last month. The halls are just so beautiful and big,” Louis says, kicking his toe against a pebble.

Harry laughs softly. “I hope it will make your dreams come true then, pet. But don’t worry, Liam loves throwing balls. You’ll have a grand time, I can assure you.”

Louis smiles. “I hope so. Normally I don’t really dance so I hope there will be some people from the village to talk to.”

Harry frowns slightly. “But you were happily dancing with Niall Horan at the last ball? Trust me, I remember that night.”

Louis’ stomach makes somersaults at the teasing lilt to Harry’s voice. “I know, but that was just friendly fun. No one,” he stutters a bit, “I mean, I don’t really dance with someone like people dance with Zayn, you know?” He looks up at Harry, hopes the older man understands what he’s trying to say.

Harry does, because his expression grows incredibly fond and a little disbelieving at the same time. “Listen to me, kitten,” he says, once they’ve reached the gate of Longbourn. He steps in closer to Louis and brushes some hair away from his forehead. "Anyone foolish enough to deny a dance with you isn’t even worthy of you. People should be lining up for just one glance into their direction from your blue eyes.” Harry’s voice is low and breathy, his gaze fixed on where his hands are still softly touching Louis’ hair.  

Louis throat goes completely dry and his mouth falls open. He thinks about it, thinks about stepping up on his tiptoes to press his chapped lips against Harry’s, to surprise the older man like Harry keeps on surprising him. The wind is crisp against his skin but the pad of Harry’s thumb against his forehead is warm and Louis leans into it, his lashes fluttering.

He can feel the heat from Harry’s body against his own and all he wants is more. More of Harry’s touch. He wants the older man to brush all of his fingers through his hair, to tilt his head backwards by tugging on it and to just, just kiss him already.

“I have to go inside,” Louis croaks out with difficulty.

“I know,” Harry breathes, but he doesn’t take step back or retreat his hand. His eyes are still on Louis’, looking so trustworthy and strong it dizzies Louis.

“Saturday, at the ball,” Louis mutters, “Will you—”

“I would claim you for every dance if I could, Louis.”

Incredibly pleased with that answer, Louis eventually does step back, blushing when Harry presses a kiss against his knuckles again.

“I wish you could,” he smiles, before turning around and walking towards his home. He gives Harry a small wave when he reaches the door and walks inside with a smile plastered on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be amazing!


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball at Netherfield Park might just change about--everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- So sorry for the long wait, I feel really bad! I'm just drowning in school work right now and couldn't find a gap earlier. I made this chapter extra long for you guys, it's about 6,000 words.  
> \- Thank you for the amazing support, the comments and the kudos really mean a lot to me.  
> \- I've had a question about Louis' and Harry's age, and I'd like to get it clear right now - Louis is 17, almost 18, and Harry is somewhere between 23-26. Something like that. 
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy!

“Ow, fuck!” Louis yelps, dropping the hot iron pin onto the top of his dressing table. He stuffs the burnt tip of his thumb into his mouth and soothes the irritated skin with his tongue. There’s some shuffling to be heard on the other side of the door and a few seconds later Zayn’s head pops around the edge of the door. “Y’alright in here?” he asks, a worried frown above his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Louis mutters, looking at Zayn through the mirror before focusing his eyes back on himself. “My hair is shit though, and I can’t seem to get it right and these fucking hot pins don’t help either.”

Zayn walks into the room, closing the door behind him. “Why are you using the pins then? You never style your hair in a quiff, so why would you do it now? It’s just a ball, Lou,” he says carefully. He sits down on the stool next to Louis, his fingers curling around the hair at the nape of Louis’ neck.

Louis shrugs. “I don’t know, I just thought it would be nice to try out something different. And you know it’s not just any ball tonight, Zayn – it’s Liam’s ball and everyone is going to be there,” he mutters, a nervous twitch around his mouth. He doesn’t normally feel so insecure and apprehensive about going to a ball, but today his mind just goes all sorts of directions. Harry will be there – hell, the man even said he wants him to save at least one dance for him. Louis chews on his lower lip, closing his eyes when he feels an unpleasant ripple of nervousness going through his body.

Zayn obviously notices because he drops his hands on Louis’ shoulders and gives him a comforting smile. “It’s going to be okay, Lou. I am pretty sure that no matter what you wear, Harry is going to love it and he’ll let you know as well.”

“Because he’s my so-called lover, right?” Louis scoffs, an edge of bitterness to his voice.

“Lou,” Zayn sighs, “I said I was sorry two days ago, alright? Just let it go. You’re only getting yourself more worked up over it. I didn’t mean it and you know it.”

“Well, it did cause me to question my every move in case someone agrees with you that I am acting like a slut,” Louis says blankly, staring at himself in the mirror as he tugs on his hair.

“I never said you were a slut,” Zayn says, easing his hand up and down his back. He knows his brother has forgiven him already, but whenever Louis is nervous he says things in a more bitchy manner than he means. Zayn decides to stay patient with him. “Hey, maybe I should give it a try?” he suggests, carefully picking up the hot iron pin by the cooler edges.

Louis squirms a little in his seat. “As long as you don’t burn my skin or my hair – sure.” He turns around on his stool and closes his eyes.

Zayn slowly picks up one of the strands of his fringe and tugs it upwards, curling it around the pin and slowly dragging it up and down and continuing the motion with the rest of Louis’ fringe.

“It looks good,” he mumbles after a few minutes. “I wouldn’t touch it too much if you want it to stay this way the entire night. Good thing your hair was wet so it’ll probably dry like this.”

Louis opens his eyes and turns back towards the mirror. A smile breaks through his lips and he nods, slowly tracing his index-finger along his hair. “Thanks, Zayn. Do you think Harry will like it?”

“Of course,” Zayn shrugs matter-of-factly, “You look stunning, bro.” He stands up from his stool and walks over towards Louis’ bed. The trousers and the jacket for tonight are spread out on the sheets and Zayn smiles at them, knowing Louis will look gorgeous.

“I wasn’t sure about the jacket,” Louis eventually says, also standing up and walking over towards the bed. “I want to wear it with this scarf.” He picks up Harry’s scarf from underneath his pillow and lies it next to the jacket, the colours matching well with each other.

“Whose scarf is this? I’ve never seen you wear it before,” Zayn asks, confusedly picking up the scarf and sliding the expensive-feeling fabric through the palms of his hands.

Louis flushes bright red. “It’s, erm. It’s Harry’s.”

“Harry’s?” Zayn’s eyes grow big. “Louis, please tell me you did not steal Harry’s scarf.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Louis sputters, “He gave it to me when he walked me home from church last Wednesday and I forgot to return it at the gate. Look how pretty it is,” Louis eyes beam when he takes the scarf from Zayn’s hands.

“Lou, I don’t care how pretty it is – you should give it back to Harry once you see him at the ball, not wear it yourself.”

Louis shrugs. “No. I want to wear it and if Harry doesn’t like it then I’ll give it back. My whole outfit is matched with this scarf and my nerves can’t handle another closet raid.”

“You are starting to sound like mum now,” Zayn grins, and he rolls his eyes. “Fine, wear the scarf. But if anyone notices it’s _Harry’s_ scarf, you do realise you’re fucked, right? No one wants to marry or to have a son in law who wears other men’s clothing. It’s like a stamp on your forehead – I am Harry Styles’.”

Louis sighs softly, his hands dropping at his sides. “I guess you’re right. It wouldn’t be very smart to walk around like I already belong to him. I mean, I know he likes me but I don’t know in what way. And I definitely don’t think he would actually go for me in the long run.”

Seeing Louis upset always tugs on Zayn’s heartstrings and he changes his mind. He pulls his brother closer and takes the scarf from his hands. “Actually, you know what?” he smiles, winding the scarf around Louis’ neck, “Fuck it. You’re only young once.”

Louis fingers slide along the smooth silk around his neck and he smiles at Zayn. “Thank you.”

Zayn shrugs. “I guess I just wish I could be more like you, Lou. A bit more reckless. But you know, eldest son and all that, so I don’t really have the chance – but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t. And I’m sorry if I sometimes come across a little jealous just because people easily fall for your baby blue eyes,” he smiles, softly tugging on the ends of the scarf.

“Zaynie,” Louis mutters, “You do know that Liam’s been gone for you ever since the day he met you, right?”

“Maybe,” Zayn hums.

Louis nudges Zayn with his knuckles against his brother’s hip. “So go for it,” he smiles. “I’m sure mum would let you cosy up to him and I am also pretty certain Liam won’t mind. Forget what everyone will say, maybe he’ll even end up being yours. But you won’t know if you don’t try. If you want to dance four times with Liam tonight, then do it. If you want to sneak off with him outside to talk privately, no one’s stopping you. Take a leap, Zaynie.”

Zayn chuckles and pinches Louis’ cheek. “We’ll see. First, I have to get ready. Mum said we are leaving in thirty minutes so we better hurry up.”

Louis nods and walks back towards his dressing table. “We do need to hurry. I have some kohl left for you if you want to use it?” He holds up the thin black stick and blinks exaggeratedly at his older brother.

“Sick,” Zayn grins, taking it and carefully turning it over between his fingers. “Thank you, Lou. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

With a short wave Zayn leaves the room and Louis turns back towards the mirror, frowning at his appearance and leaning in close when he thinks he’s spotted a pimple – which turns out to be a false alarm.

-

The twenty-minute carriage ride to Netherfield Park isn’t a pleasant one. Their mother insisted on taking the scenic route which means bumpy paths which they wrongly call roads and a sore bum when it’s over.

“Louis, honey. I think you can stop hovering your hands around your hair, it is still perfectly in place,” Mrs. Tomlinson says, looking at her youngest son.

Louis, seated next to Lydia, huffs loudly when they hobble over another bump. “Two more of those bumps and my hair will look even worse than after a night of sleep with Zayn’s hands covering my head.”

“There is no need to exaggerate,” Mr. Tomlinson adds, “Your hair looks beautiful. In fact, everyone’s hair looks beautiful.”

Louis rolls his eyes at his dad’s comment but lowers his hands, fiddling with the edges of the scarf. His mother asked about it when he came down the stairs but he avoided the question, pointing out a loose thread on his mother’s dress. It caused her to run to the kitchen quickly to get a pair of scissors to get the thread removed. She forgot about the scarf afterwards.

 “Hey,” Zayn taps his knee. “You’re fidgeting.”

“I know,” Louis sighs, “I feel like I’m going to piss me pants.”

“Louis William Tomlinson,” His mother says sternly. “You better not use that type of language tonight, young man. Especially not in front of the host, Mister Payne.”

“Wouldn’t dare, mother,” Louis says, turning his head to look out the window. The edges of the Netherfield Park mansion are sharply contrasting against the sunset-coloured sky.

As the horses pull the carriage up on the long sweep, Louis spots more carriages and he recognises a few people stepping out of them. It already looks very busy, women are hugging each other and men are greeting each other with friendly slaps on each other’s backs.

Louis startles a little when the carriage comes to a stop. He smiles friendly at one of the servants who takes his hand to help him out of the carriage. The sight of the garden nearly takes his breath away. There are candle lights surrounding the lake and the paths leading towards it and there are a few fire pits which are sending off sparks towards the sky.

“It looks lovely, doesn’t it?” Zayn asks, standing beside Louis. He has his arms crossed over his chest and Louis can smell the faint scent of his cologne every time he inhales.

“It does. I wouldn’t expect any less from Liam, though. He seems to be the type to throw a really, really good party. I hope the drinks are good as well.”

As they walk up the stairs towards the large front doors of the house, Zayn turns towards Louis. “Are you sure you should be drinking tonight? There are going to be a lot of people there and maybe Liam’s drinks are pretty heavy. I wouldn’t want you to accidently make a fool out of yourself.”

Louis grins. “Zayn, I always tend to make a fool out of myself. I can’t help it. And besides, how will I know if Liam’s booze is too strong if I don’t try it?”

Zayn shakes his head fondly and bumps his shoulder against Louis’. “Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.”

One of the servants welcomes them at the door and leads them into the house. The happy violin music ripples through Louis’ being and he can’t help but smile at seeing all these people. Everyone seems to be having a great time and he’s already heard Liam has three large ball rooms set up for dancing. The house was huge when Louis was there for Zayn when he was ill, but somehow with all these people being here, it looks even bigger.

“Boys!” Their mother suddenly pops up between them. “Stay close, we need to say our greetings to our host Mister Payne first, and then you can go towards the ball rooms. Zayn, Sir Dumont is here as well so make sure to talk to him.”

Zayn frowns in confusion. “Who?” he asks, as he and Louis are both being tugged along by their mother.

“Sir James Dumont, dear, he owns all the cheese shops in town. I need you to be charming and kind towards him tonight.”

“Why? To get a discount on his cheese?”

Louis breaks out in giggles at Zayn’s response but their mother just glares at Zayn for a second. She manages to get the whole family together by the time they arrive at where Liam is standing.

Louis spots Taylor next to Liam and, he gulps, Harry as well. “Shit, shit, shit,” he squeaks, turning towards Zayn.

“Lou? What’s the matter, you alright?” Zayn asks, looking concerned.

“Harry’s standing there,” Louis mutters, “Fuck, I never should’ve worn this stupid scarf.” He starts tugging on the ends of it but Zayn’s hands cover his and stop him.

“We’ve been over this, you look beautiful and Harry probably won’t mind it that you’re wearing his scarf. Calm down,” Zayn says soothingly.

They turn back around just in time to see Liam beaming at them. “The Tomlinsons! I’m so happy all of you could make it to my small and humble gathering,” he gushes, bowing before them.

Louis and Zayn bow, just like the rest of the family. “Thank you for inviting us, Mister Payne,” Mr Tomlinson smiles friendly. “You have a beautiful house. Zayn and Louis told us about it but now that we can actually see it, I have to say that I am very impressed.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Liam smiles. “Mrs Tomlinson, may I say that you look beautiful tonight?”

Louis grins when he sees his mother’s cheeks turning pink. He steals a quick glance at Harry through his eyelashes but the older man isn’t paying attention to him, appearing to be talking to someone else. His gaze drifts further through the room and suddenly he spots Aiden, who is standing in a group with a few other officers. Aiden lifts his hand and grins at him. Louis shyly waves back.

“I love what you’ve done to your hair, Louis, it looks really nice!”

Louis turns his head back to Liam and smiles. “Thank you, Mister Payne. It was a little experiment but I am glad you like it.”

“What did you use?” Taylor asks.

Louis is caught a little off-guard, he hasn’t spoken to the blonde woman in quite a while and hadn’t planned to do it any time soon. He answers, “I used hot pins, Zayn helped me since I couldn’t do it without burning my fingers.”

Taylor hums. “There’s a reason for that, though. Curling pins are meant for women, Louis. It’s quite logical you don’t know the right way to use them.”

Louis stammers a bit, feels himself shrinking underneath Taylor’s taunting smile and stares at his shoes. “I uh—”

“Well, I think you look ravishing tonight, Louis.”

Louis looks up again, Harry’s gentle words causing his cheeks to burn red and his chest to expand. “T-Thank you, Sir.”

 Harry nods. “You’re welcome. Would you like to accompany me to the refreshment table? You look a bit flushed.”

Louis can clearly see the teasing glint in Harry’s eyes and he bites down on his tongue. “That would be nice.”

Louis gives Zayn a small smile as he walks away, letting Harry guide him towards the large buffet tables stalled out in one of the other rooms. There are multiple plates filled with pastries and sweets and Louis’ mouth waters just by looking at them.

“I like the scarf you’re wearing,” Harry says simply, beckoning a servant with a silver tray closer.

“I-It’s yours,” Louis stutters, his fingers toying with the soft fabric.

Harry takes two glasses of champagne off the tray and hands one to Louis. “I know,” he smiles. “I was hoping you would wear it tonight and I am glad to see that you are.”

“Zayn said it was unwise.”

“Why?”

Louis shrugs. “People could get the wrong idea if they recognised it as your scarf wrapped around my neck.”

“Thinking something is wrong is subjective. I, for one, think it will give people the right idea.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say to that, so he takes a small sip from his champagne. The liquid fizzles on his tongue and he feels the corners of his mouth turning upwards. Harry’s fond look makes his head a little light but that could very well be the alcohol too.

“You know, I was wondering if you ever finished reading _Robinson Crusoe_?” Harry asks after taking a sip of his champagne as well.

Louis frowns, a little confused. “Erm, no. I don’t think so?”

“You left it here on the nightstand after you and Zayn went back home. I picked up where you left off – it’s a good story,” Harry says, walking towards a less crowded part of the room.

“I was planning on continuing it but I simply forgot about the book completely. Do you mind telling me what the ending is?” Louis asks, leaning against the wall. Harry is standing close to him, his eyes an emerald green shade due to the flickering of the candles.

“The endings are the best part, little one. I’m not going to spoil it for you,” Harry says slowly, a smile playing around his lips.

“But I want to know.” Louis knows he’s pouting but he can’t resist. It seems to work too, because Harry shakes his head but ends up telling him the ending of the story anyway.

-

Louis doesn’t know how much time has passed but he and Harry have been talking for quite a long time now. They have been switching from discussing Robinson Crusoe to talking about other books, taste in music, family and other nice things Louis can’t even remember anymore.

Harry is easy to be around when he drops his haughty, arrogant attitude. It’s not that Louis dislikes his attitude – Harry was probably born and raised into it – but it is also nice to talk to him without worrying if the older man would judge him for what he says. He lets his thoughts slip out of his mouth without thinking and Harry doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, Louis wonders if Harry has even taken his eyes off of him during their already very lengthy conversation.

While Harry is talking about the new art gallery in Pemberley, Louis lets his eyes drift over Harry’s body. It’s weird – he has never felt this way about someone else’s body before. All he can think about is to wrap his arm around Harry’s waist or to rest his head on Harry’s chest. Just to feel the warmth of his skin through his clothes and his strong arms protectively around his shoulders.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

“About hugging you,” Louis blurts. His eyes widen as soon as the words leave his lips. _Shit, shit, shit_. He curls his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms.

Instead of frowning, the older man chuckles and briefly leans in to brush his thumb over Louis’ cheekbone. “Let’s start with a dance first, alright? We’ve been talking for over an hour and this is supposed to be a ball.”

Louis feel his face still burning in shame but he nods. “Yes, Sir. If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, though? I need to use the restroom.”

Harry smiles. “Of course. I will see you in the grand hall in a few minutes, Louis. Don’t hurry.”

Louis nods a little jerkily before walking away, disappearing in the crowds of people again. He feels like he’s in a bubble which is too hot and too suffocating. His palms are clammy and it suddenly feels like the waistband of his trousers is too tight around his tummy. _Fuck, he’s so nervous right now._

He makes his way towards the toilets, trading a few greetings here and there with people he knows. He hasn’t seen Niall yet, but he has spent the majority of the evening so far staring at Sir Harry Styles, so that isn’t a surprise. The Irish blonde is probably enjoying himself by dancing.

Louis suddenly swerves a little as he tries to avoid bumping into one of the servants carrying a tray full of drinks. It results in him bumping into someone else and he loses his footing. Hands close around his hips and he’s suddenly staring into a pair of brown eyes.

“Aiden, hi!” he squeaks.

“Louis, I haven’t seen you in a while. I thought you would make your way over earlier, when I saw you with the host of tonight’s party. But then again, if Sir Harry Styles dragged you away, I can’t blame you for it.”

“He didn’t drag me away,” Louis mumbles.

“Whatever,” Aiden shrugs, his smile still plastered onto his lips. “I was hoping to catch you and I am glad that I did. Let’s go dance, Louis.”

“Oh, I’m alrea—” Louis begins to protest.

“Nonsense, just one. It will be fun, Louis. It’s time for you to get a little bit looser. It’s not good for a young, lively lad like yourself to spend so much time with dull people like Harry Styles,” Aiden says, guiding Louis swiftly through the crowd and into the ballroom.

“No, really, I have already promised this dance to—”

“Whoever they are, I am sure they can wait,” Aiden decides. “Be a bit reckless, Lou! Tonight is the night to do so.”

Before Louis knows what’s happening, Aiden is already tugging him along to the middle of the ballroom. There’s a new symphony starting up and Aiden twirls him swiftly, his hands low on Louis’ waist.

The couples around them fall into the same dance quickly and Louis desperately looks around him. He doesn’t want Harry to find him like this, doesn’t want to make the older man upset.

“Louis, calm down,” Aiden admonishes, “You’re too tense, I can feel it.”

Louis suddenly feels like squirming away and he twists a little in Aiden’s arms. The officer obviously doesn’t get the hint and holds Louis even closer to his body.

Louis closes his eyes and rests his head on Aiden’s shoulder, praying the dance will be over soon so he can go back to Harry. The vice grip Aiden has on his body is far from comfortable and it’s only the lump in his throat that prevents him from speaking up again.

Aiden doesn’t seem to notice any of his discomfort because he seamlessly guides them through the room, his dancing is so good Louis doesn’t even have to worry about stepping on his toes. The music doesn’t sound nice in his ears anymore either, too shrill and loud. He normally talks a lot during a dance but now he can’t find the words, doesn’t want to talk. He just wants it to be over soon.

He feel something shifting in his gut and he lifts his head from Aiden’s shoulder, opening his eyes.

His eyes meet Harry’s, the older man standing at the edge of the dance floor, leaning against one of the large pillars.

Louis gulps when he sees Harry’s tensed jaw and angry frown above his eyes. The man looks furious, disappointed and hurt at the same time – it’s written all over his face. Guilt flows through him like waves crash onto the beach and his heart sinks inside his chest. His feet don’t want to move to the music anymore, he just wants to go to Harry.

“Ignore him, Louis,” Aiden mutters in his ear, also having spotted Harry staring at them.

Louis swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry and raw. His eyes follow Harry as the older man harshly sets down two glasses of champagne onto a table. The liquid sloshes over the edge of the glass, creating a damp patch on the expensive looking tablecloth. Louis swears he can hear the loud clacks of Harry’s shoes on the marble floor as the man stalks out of the ballroom, avoiding a few people who want to talk to him.

When Harry is out of sight, something suddenly feels hollow and empty inside of him and Louis feels like he could cry. “I-I’m sorry, Aiden. I’ve got to go,” he quickly says, somehow finding the strength to wriggle out of Aiden’s arms. He hurries off of the dance floor, leaving a stunned Aiden behind.

The music is fading when Louis walks out of the ballroom, and he turns his head from left to right to left, trying to find the older man. There are multiple groups of people talking all around him. He spots Zayn and Liam laughing in a corner, Liam smearing a stripe of strawberry cake across Zayn’s cheek to which Zayn giggles.

Louis glances up towards the stairs and barely spots the tails of Harry’s black coat disappearing around the corner upstairs. He ignores the fact that it’s totally not-done to go upstairs in someone’s house during a ball, and he walks up the steps as quickly as he can. He hopes no one saw him – but on the other hand, it’s the least of his problems right now.

There is still a stinging feeling of guilt in his stomach and all he can think about right now is to make it right with Harry. The older man’s hurt face flashes in front of his eyes again and he quickly turns the corner.

Harry is almost at the end of the corridor, his curls bouncing on his tensed shoulder.

“Harry, stop,” Louis calls out, hurrying down the corridor.

Harry turns around and his eyes widen slightly in surprise. The corners of his mouth are still turned downwards and he doesn’t look Louis in the eye once the younger boy has caught up with him.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis says, panting slightly. “I was going to the bathroom and I—”

“It’s okay, Louis,” Harry rubs his eyes with his thumb and his index-finger. “I don’t need to hear it – it’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” Louis presses. “Just listen to me okay?”

“I get it, you know?” Harry says instead. His voice has a hoarse ring to it which Louis hasn’t heard before. “It was stupid of me to expect things from you – especially because you’re still so young. Of course you’d rather spend your time dancing with people like Aiden Grimshaw, instead of talking to me about books and politics and other stuff that obviously bore you.”

“That’s not true, Harry!” Louis squeaks. “I never said you bore me – that’s you taking your own conclusions. The thing is, Aiden dragged me off towards the dance floor and I didn’t even get the chance to say no. Really, I mean it when I say that I want to talk politics with you a hundred times more than dancing with Aiden.”

“I didn’t seem like that when your head was leaning on his shoulder and your eyes were closed,” Harry mumbles, his jaw clenching.

“I was just hoping it would be over soon, I swear,” Louis says. “Come on, Harry. I spent the whole evening with you, enjoying myself. You know me – you know that if I would be bored, I would’ve escaped the conversation soon enough. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

Harry groans and leans against the wall, his eyes closed. He stays silent for a few seconds. The whole corridor is eerily quiet, the sounds of the party downstairs completely faded away.

“Because you’re so fucking hard to read,” Harry eventually sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Huh?” Louis asks.

Harry turns towards him, suddenly standing very close again. “I never know where I am at with you,” he says slowly. “One day you’re open towards me and relaxed and the next day you’ll act like I am nothing to you – like you want me to stay as far away from you as possible. And it drives me crazy, Lou. I’ve lost so much sleep over the past few weeks because of you. I just don’t understand why you’re always changing towards me. Every single time it’s like I’m rolling a dice and I’ll just have to wait and see what the result is going to be.”

Louis sighs, feels his eyelids dropping a bit. He suddenly feels so tired. “It’s because of who you are,” he mumbles.

“Who I am?”

“Your position - everything,” Louis explains, “You’re wealthy, you come from a good family and you’re the bloody owner of the county Cheshire.”

“Half of it,” Harry says softly.

“It’s just – I don’t understand you. You’re putting so much energy and time into me and I don’t want to let myself go. I don’t want to fall for y— _it_ , in case I’m just a poor, country boy flirt to you. What would someone like you want to do with someone like me?” Louis hiccups. “I’m practically nothing.”

“Don’t you ever say that,” Harry cups Louis’ cheeks in his hands, looking deeply in Louis’ eyes. “Never say you’re less than perfect, Louis.”

“See?” Louis whispers, looking up into Harry’s green eyes. “This – this thing you do, I don’t understand, Harry. It’s so confusing and I just don’t understand why you would d—”

Louis’ words are stolen from him as Harry presses his own lips against his. His hands slip to Louis’ neck, fingers curling around the soft fabric of the scarf.

Louis is motionless for a few seconds, the heavy feeling in his gut vanishing when he reaches his shaking hands out to Harry’s waist. He sighs when he feels the older man’s warmth underneath his palms.

Harry begins to slowly move his lips, deepening the kiss and making Louis’ blood stream through his veins again. Louis slides his hands up from Harry’s waist and clutches them around the taller man’s neck, breathing shakily through his nose. Harry’s curls are soft against his skin and he hesitatingly lets his hands waver through them.

Harry pushes their bodies tightly against each other, causing Louis to moan softly when he feels the older man’s lean body against his own. He startles when Harry licks into his mouth, the feeling foreign just like everything else that is happening right now. His body involuntarily tenses up and he freezes.

“Don’t be scared, little one,” Harry whispers when he pulls back from the kiss. His lips are warm against Louis’ cheekbone. “You’re absolutely wonderful. When I saw you earlier tonight, swaying in here with your beautiful hips and my scarf wrapped around your neck – God, Louis. Do you know what you do to me?”

A warm shudder chases down Louis’ spine and a soft whine leaves his throat. He pushes himself up on his toes, kissing Harry again, feeling a bit bolder. The older man’s arms wrap around him in the same way he’d imagined it earlier tonight. He feels safe, loved.

When Harry pushes both of them against the wall, Louis opens his mouth for him and lets Harry’s tongue in. He kisses him deeply, his hands buried in Harry’s curls and tugging a little whenever Harry does that _thing_ with his tongue. It feels like something hot rolls around in his lower stomach when Harry drops his hands to his waist, squeezing his hips and breathing hotly into his mouth.

“It appears you really, really don’t know what you’re doing to me, little one.”

Louis blushes and steals another kiss. “I do know that I like it,” he whispers against Harry’s lips.

Harry drops his head to Louis’ shoulder, chuckling softly against the skin of his neck. “I don’t know what we’re doing right now, Lou. But like you, I also know that I like it.” He lifts his head again and presses his lips against Louis’.

“We’re going to be in so much trouble if someone finds out,” Louis mumbles, his hands sliding underneath Harry’s jacket and resting on his lower back.

“Well,” Harry says, “I did just kiss you in a corridor where literally every second someone could’ve caught us. And then there’d be hell to pay.”

“Mhm. Of course, most of the blame would fall onto you because you’re supposed to be the older and wiser one of us,” Louis smiles teasingly, feeling a bit flushed from adrenaline.

“I think everyone would understand my moment of weakness in patience when they see you. You’re so pretty, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis bites down on his lower lip to prevent himself from making a high-pitched sound. Instead, he kisses Harry’s lips again – he doesn’t want to do anything else anymore but to kiss him.

They kiss languidly, with a lot more patience this time. Harry’s hands softly run up and down along Louis’ spine, warming the boy from the inside and the outside. Their lips become swollen after a while but they don’t stop – can’t seem to stop now that they’ve started.

When Louis eventually pulls back, there’s a burning question on the tip of his tongue. Harry notices the uncertainness in the younger boy’s eyes. “What’s the matter, little one?”

Louis shifts his weight onto his right foot, looking at the pattern on the carpet beneath his feet for a few seconds. Harry slides his index-finger underneath Louis chin, lifting it so that he can meet his eyes.

“You can tell me, it’s okay.”

Louis nods shakily. “I was just wondering,” he mutters, “What’s going to happen now? I really like you, Harry, but if there is no future possible then I – I don’t think I should continue kissing you then.” He wants to lower his gaze again but Harry still has his finger underneath his chin.

“Well,” Harry whispers, a hint of a smile around his lips. “If you want to, I’d very much like to court you, Louis Tomlinson.”

“Really?” Louis blurts.

Harry laughs and nods his head. “Yes. I don’t care what people will say, love. All I care about is getting to know you better and spending time with you. If you want to, that is.”

Louis was already nodding before Harry finished his sentence. “Of course. I-I mean, it’s going to be strange, different I think, but I would very much like to get to know you better as well. My parents would have to agree, though.” He chews on his raw lower lip for a second. “And would you really not mind what people are going to have to say? They will probably say things about you just using me as, well as, _you know_ , and they’ll probably call me a slut or a gold digger.”

Harry presses his lips against Louis’. “Let them,” he whispers. “I really don’t care. Don’t worry about it Louis, I am going to take care of it tomorrow morning. I’ll talk to Liam and Taylor about it as well, I want them to know what you mean to me.”

“Really?” Louis asks, the warmth in his chest expanding when he meets Harry’s soft eyes.

“Really. You’re so lovely, Lou. If it were up to me, I would announce our courtship right now, to all the guests here.”

Louis giggles. “I’d rather you not. My mother will have a heart attack.”

“She’ll have one either way, once she hears about me. She isn’t my biggest fan, now is she?”

“She’s a big fan of your money,” Louis frowns. “But I’m not. I mean – like, I don’t like you just because you’re rich. You do know that, right?”

“Of course I do. If you’d only be interested in me for my money, you would have been much more polite when we first met,” Harry winks, kissing Louis’ nose.

“You’ve got a point there,” Louis smiles.

-

After another few minutes of being wrapped up in each other, Harry and Louis make their way downstairs again. They make sure they go separately and no one seems to have noticed their absence. Everyone is still busy talking in their groups or watching the couples dancing.

Louis and Harry join in for two dances as well and Louis is pretty sure his face is lighting up like the sun throughout the rest of the evening. Harry stays right beside him, both of them laughing and chatting with Zayn and Liam. They eat some of the delicious pie  and they drink more champagne.

And at one point during the evening, when Louis looks at Harry laughing with Zayn, he realises that everything is perfect – right here, in this moment. He can only hope it will stay this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope you liked it!  
> \- The official definition of courtship (for the ones who aren't particularly mastered in the 18th century conduct): Courtship is the period in a couple's relationship which precedes their engagement and marriage. During courtship, a couple get to know each other and decide if there will be an engagement or other such agreement. A courtship can be a formal arrangement with family approval. Traditionally, in the case of a formal courtship, it has been perceived that it is the role of a male to actively "court" or "woo" a female, thus encouraging her to understand him and her receptiveness to a proposal of marriage.  
> \- Come eat cookies with me on [tumblr](http://www.hazza-andtommo.tumblr.com)!  
> \- Feedback would be amazing!


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after the ball and Harry tells everything to Liam and Taylor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The positive and cute feedback is so amazing to read, thank you so much!  
> \- I remembered Harry's "Give him a flower!" quote from earlier this week and it wriggled its way into this chapter, sorry for that haha!
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy it!

The lively sounds of the piano echo through the walls of Netherfield Park as Harry walks into the drawing room. His curls are still damp from the bath he took and his white collar is still standing stiffly upright. There is a fire crackling in the fireplace and Harry checks his appearance briefly in the mirror hanging on the wall above it.

“Morning,” he says, nudging Liam who is lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling above him with a pensive frown above his eyes.

Liam replies with a, “Morning Hazza,” before picking up the book which is laid face-down on his chest. His eyes are cloudy and his thick brown hair is ruffled like a German shepherd’s fur after a walk in the forest. Both of his shoes are laying on opposite sides of the couch and his shirt is unbuttoned.

“Did you even sleep in your room last night or did you just collapse onto the sofa?” Harry asks, walking over towards Taylor who is still playing the piano and paying him no mind.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t in the right state of mind to return to my chambers,” Liam says, his voice rough. “And my head feels like it’s going to roll off any minute so I am not taking any risks by getting up.”

Harry cracks a grin at his friend and then turns his head towards Taylor. “I hope you’re feeling better than him?” he asks.

“I slept very well, thank you,” Taylor says. She reaches up her hand and dips a feather into the little pot of ink. There are already multiple scribbles on the sheet paper and while she adds a few more, she mentions, “Although I must say I am clearly not as well rested as you are. You look like you’ve gotten sixty hours of sleep instead of just a sloppy five and a half.”

Harry leans his elbows onto the piano. “Even less than that, since I couldn’t sleep right away. But you’re right Taylor, I do feel wonderful this morning.”

“If you could lower the volume of your voice then you’ll give me the opportunity to also feel wonderful this morning,” Liam says from the couch. “I’m telling you, my feet are going to fall off soon, they’re still throbbing.”

Harry gives Taylor a questioning glance, to which the blonde replies with a cheeky smile. “Zayn Tomlinson showed Liam every corner of the ball room last night. You would’ve loved it, but you were missing.” She lies the feather carefully back down and stares up at Harry. “Where were you anyway?”

“I was around.” Harry walks away from the piano and he sits down on the other couch, opposite from Liam.

“You were around Louis, you mean,” Liam grins from the couch. From this angle it looks more like a grimace but Harry will take it.

“Louis and I talked a lot last evening,” he says, staring down at his hands and entwining his fingers together.

The reason he couldn’t sleep last night was because of Louis. Nothing could clear up his mind – all he kept seeing was Louis’ bright eyes when he’d told him he wanted to court him. The feeling of the soft fabric of Louis’ shirt made his fingers tingle for the rest of the night and it curled all the way down to his toes.

“You talked a lot last evening?” Taylor’s bright voice chips into his thoughts. “Oh my – ” her laugh sounds slightly startled, “what can you talk about with a boy like him? The weather, or the pastries? He looks like he enjoys those.”

Harry doesn’t miss Taylor’s muttering of the last sentence, and he quickly stands up from the couch. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks darkly.

Taylor’s eyes just widen slightly but other than that, she doesn’t seem fazed. “I’m just saying – you don’t have a lot in common with him. And I don’t understand why you would waste a beautiful evening like last night on just talking. You only danced three times and all those three times were with him!” She stares at Harry pointedly and moves to close the lid of the piano.

“So? I didn’t want to dance with anyone else,” Harry says, curling his fingers inwards.

Liam looks between Taylor and Harry before straightening himself on the couch with a groan. “It did look a little suspicious, Haz,” he says carefully. “People were talking about it.”

“Good,” Harry shrugs, “That means they won’t be surprised when I will court him.”

Taylor drops the piano lid with a hard bang and stares at him speechlessly. “When you what?”

Liam clears his throat and glances up at Harry. “Did you just say _court him_? Or am I still drunk and is my mind playing tricks on me?”

“You heard me Liam,” Harry says, his eyes fixed on Taylor’s stunned expression. “I plan to court Louis Tomlinson and if it all goes well, then we all know what will happen next.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Taylor stands up from the piano stool, her dresses swooshing as she stalks over towards him. “You do that and you’ll bring your whole family down, and you know it.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Harry scowls, “You talk about Louis like he is some stray from the streets who doesn’t have his virtue anymore. He comes from a respectable family and his father is a gentleman.”

“Yes, a gentleman with an income of 2,000 pounds a year and no married heir,” Taylor raises her voice. “How can you be so stupid, Styles? You cannot seriously tell me you fell for it, right? Their mother is pushing her sons underneath the nose of everyone who has money or a high position and you know it. More than that, you’ve been fooled by it.”

“You better watch your words, Miss Swift,” Harry says sharply, taking a step closer. “How dare you call me stupid when you haven’t even spent more than five minutes in the company of Louis Tomlinson? You don’t even _know_ him. I don’t expect you to believe me when I tell you that he is the loveliest person I have ever met. Nothing you say can make me think otherwise and I will not let you stand in the way of my happiness.”

Liam stands up from the couch and slightly pulls Harry back by his shoulders. “Christ, calm down Haz. No one is standing in the way of anything, but as your best friend I feel obligated to ask you why you’re doing this. All I am saying is that it’s not a choice you can quickly take. Louis is only seventeen and very inexperienced – and sometimes it’s hard to keep a clear mind when you fancy someone,” he says carefully, his hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder.

“A fancy?” Harry scoffs, turning his head sideways to look Liam in the eye. “You think I will court someone and risk my good name,” he glances sharply at Taylor, “for something as small as a _fancy_?” He shrugs his shoulder out of Liam’s grip and places his hands on hips. “Let me tell you right now that what I feel for Louis is more than a simple fancy.”

“Okay,” Liam says slowly, breathing in and out. “So you actually like him very much, that’s good. But there are other things, his age and his family. He’s a teenager Hazza, you know how they are. Their personality and emotions are all over the place right now and maybe one day you’ll wake up next to a person you hardly even know. Is it worth it, courting him so soon, with the large risk of the regret you might end up with in the future?”

“I’m courting him,” Harry says, looking Liam dead in the eye. “I didn’t announce our wedding. The whole bloody idea of courting someone is to get to know them, or are my parents the only ones who’ve taught me that?” He whirls around, gauging Taylor’s reaction.

She sighs, drops her arms from where they were crossed over her chest. “You know how it will look, Harry. Of course the official version says you aren’t obliged to marry him after your courtship. But if you decide to leave it, you’ll know someone like Louis will never have the chance to marry anyone again. You may just take his virginity along with it because to everyone else, it will be all the same if you don’t go through with it.”

“I am planning to go through with it,” Harry says through gritted teeth. “For the last time, this is not some flirt! He—” Harry’s voice cracks, “—he’s different, okay? Special. And just the thought of him belonging to someone else makes me feel sick.”

A hint of a smile waves over Liam’s face before he turns serious again. “Well, at least that’s clear then. His family however, that could cause some problems.”

“I don’t see how,” Harry says, blinking twice. “I can bare having Mrs. Tomlinson as my mother-in-law, if that’s what you’re so worried about. It’s not like I plan for me and Louis to stay around Hertfordshire anyway—”

“Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” Taylor butts in with a mean smile.

Harry stops talking and shoots her a cold glare.

Liam quickly breaks the tense silence. “I know, I know. I wasn’t talking about Mrs. Tomlinson. I meant your obligations. If everything will, well, go right, then you will have to fulfil certain obligations towards your family.”

“Like?” Harry inquires.

“Like paying off Longbourn when Mr. Tomlinson dies,” Liam explains. “If Zayn doesn’t get married and Louis is the only married son, you’re going to have to be the one to pay for their living.”

“What will those few pounds mean to me if I have Louis Tomlinson for a husband?” Harry asks, spreading his arms and holding up his palms. “Frankly, Liam, that is all I care about. Even if he was only into me for my money, I am afraid I wouldn’t be put off by it. I adore him and I will court him as soon as I can.” He looks at Taylor and adds, “Even if you both don’t agree.”

The silence in the room envelops them for a while. Liam sits down on the couch and rubs his thumb along his unshaven jaw. The old grandfather clock against the wall makes a steady _tick-tock-tick_ sound and Harry watches the pendulum swing from left to right and back again.

“Well,” Taylor clears her throat, “As much as I am _truly moved_ by your affection for this boy, I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm, Taylor,” Liam says, crossing his legs. “And why do you think it’s still unwise?”

Taylor raises her eyebrows. “Does this mean you agree with him then?” she directs the question back at Liam.

Liam shrugs, the collar of his loose shirt riding lower down his chest. “I think I am not the one to prevent my best friend from pursuing the boy he wants more than anything.”

 “You were always the romantic one, Liam,” Taylor shakes her head, looking down at the seams of her dress. There’s a small hint of fondness in her voice, but it’s gone when she looks back up at Harry again. “Pemberley,” she states, “Your lovely childhood home and one of the biggest estates in England. What will happen to it if you marry a boy who has no fortune, no status, nothing?”

“Pemberley will be as it always has been,” Harry says, fixing the edge of his collar. “The business is going well and it doesn’t matter who I marry. I don’t need any money because I’ve got more than enough for the whole bloody town.”

“And it’s status?” Taylor laughs. “The paintings of the Darcy family in the gallery speak volumes, Harry. Talking in numbers, the social position of your family will go from a hundred to seventy-five if you let yourself in with Louis.”

“Yes, and if we’re talking numbers,” Harry seamlessly adds in, “Then my happiness will go from a twenty to a hundred and twenty. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He bows curtly before Taylor and walks towards the door.

Once he’s in the corridor, he breathes in and out deeply for a few seconds, closing his eyes. His stomach churns and the tension in his shoulders is far from comfortable. He lets himself lean against the wall, his wet curls pressing against his neck.

The door of the drawing room opens again and reveals Liam, who still looks dishevelled and hung over.

“Harry, God,” he eventually sighs, closing the door behind him. “You really do know how to drop something big like that on a morning like this.”

“Sorry for your inconvenience,” Harry says, looking at the servants who are standing on either side of the corridor. He wonders how much they heard and how much is already going around in their rumour mill, until he finds out he doesn’t really care.

“Taylor was being a bit harsh on you,” Liam says, dropping his hand to the nape of Harry’s neck and playing with the curls. “And don’t worry, I am not here to try and talk some sense into you. I wanted to offer to come along with you to Longbourn.”

Harry looks up, one corner of his mouth curled up into a smile. “Why would you do that? I’m pretty sure you will throw up before your horse has even reached the gate.”

“That’s true,” Liam concedes, “But I want to give you some moral support. I do not doubt Mr Tomlinson will be foolish to deny your proposal to court his son, but who knows. Strange things happen in this world,” he looks pointedly at Harry.

“Ah, like me falling for a country boy, you mean.”

Liam grins, his cheeks colouring the shade of apple red. “Well, the first day you arrived, you did say you hated the countryside. Plus, you wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“But then Louis happened,” Harry shrugs, “And I… I don’t know Liam. It just feels right with him, you know?”

Liam smiles. “Maybe I do.”

Harry tugs on the lapels of his jacket. “So I don’t care what everyone will say. As long as I can see and talk to Louis without having twenty pairs of eyes watching me all the damn time. I want to have the right to dance with him and only him, without Taylor or anyone else asking me about it the day afterwards.”

“I understand that, Haz,” Liam nods. He walks along with Harry through the hallway. “But you have to realise that someone of your position will never get real privacy. There will always be people who gossip.”

“Maybe,” Harry hums, “But I can handle the gossip. I just don’t want anyone to think we’re being careless about each other, I want them to know we mean it.”

“Wait. You and Louis already talked about this?” Liam’s eyes widen.

“Yes of course. I am not setting out all these plans without his consent, Liam, I am not that kind of man,” Harry gives his friend a sideways glance.

“I know, I know, but when did you talk to him about this? And what did he say?” Liam asks curiously.

“Well, we didn’t completely talked it through actually. It was a ball after all, and we didn’t spend the entire evening talking about the rules of our courtship. That kind of takes all the fun away, doesn’t it?”

“But then what did you two do last night then? Me and Zayn didn’t see you for at least twenty minutes.”

Harry feels a blush rising to his cheeks. “Erm… Let’s just say there wasn’t a lot of talking involved.”

Liam stops dead in his step. “What?” His mouth falls open. “Harry Edward Styles please tell me you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m a gentleman, okay.”

“But…” Liam stammers. “But did you kiss him?” He hisses the last words, his eyes flicking between the servants who are standing by each doorway.

“Will you fetch me my riding coat, please?” Harry asks one of the servants, before turning back towards Liam. “We kissed, and I started. I liked it, Louis liked it but it didn’t go any further. Now, will you stop the inquisition? I would very much like to get on my horse and leave for Longbourn, if you’re still coming along?”

“I am, but I need to get ready first. Give me a few minutes, I will change into some clean clothes,” Liam says, whirling around and heading towards the stairs.

Harry nods and sits down in a chair, his knee bouncing. He never thought this would ever happen, Liam accompanying him to ask for the courtship of someone. Especially not the courtship of Louis Tomlinson. A smile automatically settles on Harry’s lips when he thinks of the boy. Something warm spreads inside of him and he feels rather excited than nervous to see Louis again.

-

“Dear Lord, I do hope you know what you’re doing,” Liam groans when he jumps off of his horse, his high hat wobbling on his head. The gravel underneath his boots scrunches and he leads his horse along the sweep of Longbourn.

“Trust me, I do,” Harry says, also getting of his horse in an elegant move.

“Just,” Liam stops before he can walk further and he looks Harry in the eyes, “Are you really sure Louis wants this as much as you do? He’s still so young Haz—”

“Li, don’t worry,” Harry smiles, “I don’t know how it happened but I am sure he is as gone for me as I am for him. He’s just so… He’s insecure about a lot of things. And that’s going to be hard to deal with maybe, because we’re very different, him and me. But I really, really want to make this work and Louis looked so happy last night. I trust everything to turn out alright.”

Liam sighs and smiles. “Okay, that’s all I needed to know. I’m sorry for giving you a hard time, but you’re my best friend and I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I will regret being born before I’ll regret courting Louis, I promise you,” Harry nods, leading his horse further onto the sweep.

A servant makes her way outside and greets them both with a curtsy. “Afternoon, gentlemen. How can I be of your service?”

“Afternoon ma’am,” Harry smiles brightly, “If you would be so kind to call upon Louis Tomlinson? I’d like to have a word with him.”

Liam sides up next to him after their horses are being taken care of by the stablemen. “You know you’re not yet courting him right? You should’ve called upon his father.”

“Christ, Liam,” Harry looks sideways at his friend, “If you are going to act like _my_ father throughout this entire affair I suggest you go back home. I just want you to properly talk to him – to see how he feels.”

The front door opens again and Louis steps outside. His hair is a bit dishevelled and he’s rubbing his eyes tiredly as he walks over to them and curtsies coyly. “Good afternoon Harry,” and he hurriedly adds, “You as well, Liam.”

“Hi love.” Harry knows his smile is bright enough to compete with the sun but he can’t help it. “Sleep well last night?”

Louis blushes a bit, staring back at Harry. “Not really,” he admits. “I was thinking about, you know,” he glances at Liam quickly, “about some things you said last night. But you’re here now, so I w—”

“You were worrying over nothing,” Harry finishes Louis’ sentence with a fond smile. “I brought Liam along because he wanted to talk to you for a bit while I go and talk to your father.”

Louis smiles at his shoes. “He’s in his study, I think.”

“Good,” Harry nods. He turns towards Liam and claps his friend on his back. “Be nice to my boy.”

He walks past Louis towards the house, but before he can walk inside Louis grabs his hand. He turns around to the small boy’s hopeful eyes.

“You’re really doing this?” Louis asks softly. The incredulous tone in his voice makes Harry’s heart break for some reason.

“I am,” he simply says. “It’s all going to be okay, little one. Trust me.” He presses a quick kiss against Louis’ forehead before going inside.

Louis turns around towards Liam and gives the other man a wobbly smile.

“Don’t worry,” Liam grins, holding his hands up, “I won’t tell anyone about your public display of affection with my best friend.”

Louis has to laugh at that, the ice broken now and he happily walks along with Liam through the garden, answering the other man’s questions freely.

-

“Am I understanding you correctly here? You want to court my youngest son, Louis?” Mr Tomlinson asks above the rim of his glasses.

Harry weirdly feels like squirming underneath the man’s gaze, but stays still and upright in his chair. “That’s correct, Sir. Louis and I have got to know each other better during the time he was at Netherfield Park for Zayn, and I would like to spend more time with him.”

“Mhm,” Mr Tomlinson hums, leaning forward in his chair. He takes off his glasses and rests his forearms onto the desk. “Now, Sir Styles. What is the real reason?”

Harry frowns slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”

“Let me explain myself then,” Mr Tomlinson stands up and walks over towards the other side of the study, staring into the flames in the fireplace. “I am not a rich man, and I cannot offer my two sons and my three daughters what they deserve. However, it’s not that I am desperate for money – something you clearly have – so I do have my questions.”

“By all means, Sir,” Harry stands up and walks to where Mr Tomlinson is standing. “You can ask any question you’re burdened with.”

“Thank you,” Mr Tomlinson nods. “I just have one question, actually. And that’s the question of _why._ Why Louis?” He looks Harry in the eye. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my son very much and I find it very logical that people develop a certain interest in him. But don’t you have obligations? No offense intended, but men of your calibre are usually promised to someone else from the second they’re born.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry nods, “That isn’t very uncommon in my social circle. However, my parents died when I was still a teenager and I lived with my aunt after that. She’s, what one calls, more of a progressive type of woman. She allowed me to decide for myself and that’s what I am doing. And I can promise you, I am willing to go for miles for Louis. He’s special in his own way and I can see him by my side in the future.”

Mr Tomlinson is nodding, “Yes, yes, that was my other question. I hope you do understand that I am a bit apprehensive about your intentions? How often has a wealthy, good looking man taken advantage of someone and eventually leaving them? I am not saying that is what you are or that’s what you’re going to do. It is however a possibility, and I was hoping you could convince me otherwise.”

“I don’t think I can say it enough,” Harry smiles, “But Louis makes me happy. He’s stubborn, yes, and he ignores proper conduct and social rules – but that’s what drew me to him in the first place. I will never force him to change anything about himself. He is his own person and I plan to respect that and to cherish him as much as I can.” As the words are leaving his lips, Harry knows his smile is only widening. It happens every time he so much as thinks or talks about Louis. The boy has a grip on his mind and it doesn’t bother him one bit.

Mr Tomlinson clears his throat, walking back towards his desk and perching his glasses back onto his nose. “Very well then, Harry Styles. I can see that you truly like my youngest son and that your intentions appear to be honourable.” He sits down in his chair behind his desk and smiles at Harry. “And by the way Louis can’t stop smiling every time you are mentioned, I take it he agrees to this match as well. I will talk to him about it of course. And if he doesn’t have any objections, I will happily let you court him.”

A rush of relief floods through Harry and he presses his hands together, bowing for Mr Tomlinson. “Thank you Sir, I can’t explain how much I appreciate this.”

“Be responsible, don’t get him drunk and make sure he is home before midnight at all times,” Mr Tomlinson says sternly, looking at Harry over the rim of his glasses again. An amused smile is playing around his lips.

“I will. He’s in good hands, Sir. And if you don’t mind, I would like to deliver the news to him myself.”

Mr Tomlinson nods, making a dismissive flick with his hand. “By all means, Harry. Just make sure he doesn’t scream.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Harry smiles happily, walking out the door and closing it behind him. As he makes his way through the narrow corridor towards the front door, he bumps into Liam.

“Hey,” he straightens his coat, “Weren’t you in the garden with Louis?”

“Yes, I was,” Liam nods. “He’s very lovely Harry, and by seeing your face I take it everything went well?”

“Perfect,” Harry smiles and Liam pushes his index-finger against a dimple.

“Louis will be glad to hear that. He tried not to let it show but he was very nervous. I left him to himself so he could get a bit of a breather but I think you should go and find him now,” Liam smiles, clapping Harry’s back.

“I will,” Harry grins. “And by the way, Zayn was asking for you Liam.”

“Really?” Liam’s smile widens. “I’ll go find him then,” he says and he turns around to search for the eldest Tomlinson.

Harry opens the front door and steps outside, blinking at the bright sunlight. It’s mid-April now and all the flowers in the garden are blooming. The garden is relatively small and messy compared to the acres of land surrounding Netherfield Park, but Harry likes it. The colours are all mixed together and the flowers wave softly in the wind. He lets his fingers wave along the petals as he walks further into the garden.

He spots Louis sitting on a stone bench which is placed in a notch in the hedge. A smile finds its way on Harry’s lips again and he plucks a pink gerbera. He twirls the short stem around between his fingers as he walks closer.

“You know,” he says, smiling when Louis’ head snaps up and their eyes meet, “My father once told me that you should always show your appreciation for someone by giving them flowers. He said that flowers work for everyone, no matter what their age, social standard or gender is. And you know what?” He walks closer to Louis, bends down slightly to slide the flower in his hair and he whispers, “I think he was right.”

Louis cautiously lets his fingers touch his hair where the flower is. He looks up at Harry. “Thank you, Harry,” he smiles. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows hard. “D-Did you? Did it—”

“It went perfect, love.” Harry holds his hand out and Louis’ takes it, standing up. Harry entwines their fingers and lets his other hand slide around Louis’ small waist. “Your father gave his consent for me to court you. And unless you have any obje—”

This time it’s Louis who cuts him off, reaching up on his tiptoes and pressing his soft lips against Harry’s. Harry instinctively lets go of Louis’ hand, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy and pulling him against his body. Louis lips are warm and wet, opening easily when Harry asks for access with his tongue. They kiss slowly, their tongues sliding along each other, nothing but the sound of crickets and chirping birds and each other’s breathing in their ears. Louis hands are fisting the fabric of his coat and Harry slides his hands up to Louis’ neck, feeling the soft and tender skin underneath his fingertips when he slowly pulls back.

“And now,” Louis’ voice is high and squeaky and he clears his throat, “And now what?”

Harry smiles at the shy blush on Louis’ cheeks. “Now,” he says, pulling Louis closer in his arms, the boy resting his head against his chest. “I hope you’ll accompany to a play next week.”

He feels Louis’ breathing hitching against his chest. “No one has ever taken me to a play before.”

“Let me be your first, then,” Harry whispers, pressing a kiss against Louis’ soft hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The next chapter will probably be a "double-date" with Ziam joining in, yay!  
> \- Come hang up Christmas ornaments on [tumblr](http://www.hazza-andtommo.tumblr.com) with me :)
> 
> Feedback is lovingly drooled upon!


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis go on their first public outing, accompanied by Liam and Zayn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Christmas break has arrived! I hope to update more frequently in the coming weeks.  
> \- Thank you for all the lovely feed back, it's amazing to read and it motivates me a lot!

“No, absolutely not,” Mrs Tomlinson says, the scowl obvious in her voice.

Louis stops twirling and stares at his mother. “But mum,” he whines, “Look how nice they make my legs look!” He points down at his legs and turns around again. The sunlight catches the mirror and causes a bright halo around his reflection.

“They are obscene, darling. I will not have you going out on your first public appearance with Harry, dressed like that. You need to look absolutely impeccable because these rich people are going to tear your limb for limb if you look anything less than gorgeous,” Mrs Tomlinson says, standing up from Louis’ bed and walking over towards the closet. The hangers rattle as she pulls the doors open and flicks her hand between the garments.

“They’re not obscene,” Louis mutters, turning around in front of the mirror. He arches his back in an awkward angle and watches how the fabric of his trousers pulls taut over his arse. A smile plays on his lips. “And besides,” he adds, “I’m pretty sure no one is going to tear me limb for limb. They’re rich, not savages.”

Just as his mother is about to speak again, Zayn walks into his room. His nimble fingers are fiddling with the cravat he’s tying. He looks appreciatively at Louis and then asks; “What is all this about then? Don’t you think Louis looks absolutely gorgeous, mother? I found those trousers in the back of his closet and thought they would be great to wear for tonight.”

Mrs Tomlinson turns towards her eldest son. “Zayn,” she says sternly, “The whole point of being your brother’s chaperone is making sure he looks decent. That—,” she points at Louis’ pants, “—does not qualify as decent. Harry will not know where to look!”

“That’s the whole point.” Zayn grins widely.

Louis giggles softly at Zayn’s words. However, his eyebrows curve into a slight frown while he watches himself in the mirror. Maybe his mother is right. Maybe he should play it safe for tonight and not dress up like this. His fingers slide along the smooth fabric of his trousers. He does love them and loves the way they cling to his body.

“I don’t know what to do with you two,” Mrs Tomlinson sighs, shaking her head with a hint of a fond smile on her lips. “Louis, it’s my advice for you that you wear something different tonight. But I’m not the one who is being courted by Harry Styles so it’s your decision eventually. I think you’re old and wise enough to decide for yourself, right?”

Louis smiles and nods. “Yes, mother. I am.” He buttons up his shirt and stuffs it in his trousers. His hands feel on the bed and when they don’t connect with anything, he frowns and turns around.

“Looking for these?”

Louis looks up and laughs when he sees Zayn dangling his suspenders between his fingers. “Yes, those. They go well with the blue colour of my shirt, don’t they?”

“Harry won’t know what hit him,” Zayn says, a proud smile beaming on his lips. He turns Louis around by his shoulders, making him face the mirror again. “You know,” he says, clipping the back end of the suspenders on the waistband of Louis’ pants, “You might even be prettier than me this evening.” He teasingly pulls on the suspender, snapping it against Louis’ back.

“Oh shut it,” Louis blushes. “But I wouldn’t mind if I did. After all, it’s me who is being courted by someone way above my position. I’m not sure if my ego would survive if all eyes were on you this evening.” He teasingly sticks his tongue out to Zayn in the mirror.

Zayn just grins, tugging Louis’ suspenders over his shoulders and fastening them at the front. “There. All strapped in, snugly and tight.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, hands buried in his hair. “Do you think I should ask Hill to heat up the iron pins for me? Harry did say he liked my quiff. It was probably that hairstyle that got him to kiss me and ask for my courtship.”

Zayn glances at his watch and grins. “He’s going to be here in exactly five minutes, Lou. There’s no time for you to change your hairstyle for the eighth time this evening. I like this look, it’s like you just rolled out of your bed yet still manage to look pretty. And come on, this is Harry. You could literally wear anything and he’d still like it.”

Louis snorts. “Knowing Harry, he would probably be very blunt about it instead. But that’s okay,” he shrugs, smiling at his reflection, “It’s what I like about him.” He leans in towards the mirror again and then leans backwards, inspecting his entire outfit one last time. “Okay, I think I’m good to go.”

“Wait, wait. A finishing touch,” Zayn quickly says, hurrying over to his side of the bed. He takes out a small box from the drawer of his bedside table and walks back to Louis.

“What’s that?” Louis asks curiously, eyes shining. He loves it whenever Zayn buys him something, even when it’s just something simple like new paper for his letters or a ribbon for his wrists.

“Something I saw in town the other day. Had to tell the shop attendant it was for Lydia, though. Apparently it’s only for girls,” Zayn rolls his eyes, giving the small box to Louis.

Louis turns it around. It’s small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. He opens the small lid carefully and stares at the shiny substance inside. “What is it?”

“It’s for your eyes,” Zayn beams, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Touch it with your finger, it’s sticky so the glitters will stay on your eyelids for the entire night.”

“Fuck,” Louis whispers, looking at the glittery pad of his index-finger. “It’s so pretty. Thank you, Zee.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zayn smiles, stepping closer and taking the small box from Louis’ hand. “You’re going to look like a princess tonight and no one will say a bad thing about you and Harry.” He dips his finger in the sticky substance and brings it up to Louis’ face. Louis obediently closes his eyelids and feels them fluttering when Zayn smears the glitters carefully onto them.

After a few seconds, Zayn leans back and grins widely. “Fucking hell. You can open your eyes now Lou.”

Louis opens his eyes and whirls around towards the mirror, mouth falling open when he sees himself. “Shit. It’s so pretty! Oh my God, Zayn. I can’t rub my eyes for the entire night now or I’ll mess it up.”

“Who cares, it’ll be worth it,” Zayn shrugs.

“You’re ri—”

Through the open window the sound of carriage wheels nears and Louis’ head twists around. “He’s here,” he beams. “Let’s go, Zee. Before I’ll start thinking of changing my hair again.”

Zayn follows Louis’ out the room and down the stairs. “So no changing of the trousers then?” he asks.

Louis looks down at himself and shrugs. “It’s too late for that now anyway.” He opens the front door himself and blinks at the sun lowering in the sky, painting it in the beautiful shades of pink and orange.

He walks outside, Zayn staying behind at the door, and his smile widens when the door of the carriage opens. Harry steps out swiftly, his long legs wrapped in knee-high boots and one hand holding his top hat on his head.

“Good evening, Sir,” Louis smiles once he’s closer, curtsying before Harry.

Harry steps forward and takes Louis’ hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Mr Tomlinson, you look wonderful tonight. I think your eyes are shining even brighter than they usually do.”

Louis grins at Harry’s teasing wink and then he looks back at the carriage when the door opens again, revealing Liam. The brown-haired man fusses with his jacket before walking over towards them.

“Good evening Louis,” Liam smiles, bowing before him. “I hope you don’t mind me accompanying you and Harry tonight. Hired chaperones are worse than friends, trust me.”

Louis curtsies before Liam and then nods at him. “I don’t mind, but Zayn already took the part as my chaperone. Which is probably a good thing since then you won’t be alone tonight,” he says pensively.

Liam’s eyes light up, smiling at Zayn who is still standing near the front door with a fond smile on his face. He clears his throat and turns his gaze back to Louis. “Well, knowing Harry and how he gets whenever you dress up nicely – you’ll probably need two chaperones.”

Louis blushes a furious red and meets Harry’s eyes for a second, the older man just swiping his thumb along his jawline and briefly shrugging a shoulder in agreement.

“Good evening, Liam,” Zayn walks closer, curtsying before Liam. “I’m glad to see you here since I think I won’t be able to keep these two away from each other.”

“ _Which_ isn’t your job at all,” Harry adds, raising his eyebrows at Liam and Zayn.

Liam just grins at Harry and then turns his head back to Zayn. “I see why you might need someone else there as well. If there is anything I’ve learned in the past few years, it’s that Harry can be quite intimidating and possessive over the things he cares about. Luckily I’m very much immune to the intimidating part.”

“Yes, luckily you are,” Zayn smiles softly, his eyes fixed on Liam.

The peaceful moment is interrupted by one of the horsemen, telling them they have to leave now if they want to be on time for the play.

Louis turns towards Harry and smiles when he sees the older man holding his arm out for him. He curls his hand in the crook of Harry’s elbow and lets himself be guided to the carriage. Harry’s hand moves to the small of his back as Louis steps on the rung of the carriage, plopping down on the soft seat.

When Liam opens his mouth, Harry cuts him off by saying, “I don’t care, Li. I’m sitting next to Louis. There is no law which says I can’t.”

Liam scoffs. “I was just about to say how you should sit next to Louis, so me and Zayn could keep a good eye on you two.”

“Same intentions,” Harry shrugs, making himself comfortable next to Louis, grabbing the younger boy’s hand. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Louis’ throat has gone dry and he nods silently, squeezing Harry’s fingers.

-

The sun has set completely when they arrive at the theatre. The sky is a black, inky colour and the large fire pits near the entrance are sending off sparks into the crisp air. Harry gets out of the carriage first, holding his hand out to guide Louis down the single step. Louis lets his eyes go through the people outside. There are more people than he’d expected – the women are wearing expensive looking fur coats and the men are puffing on big cigars and glancing at their gold pocket watches.

A few heads have turned around, staring at him and Harry. Louis feels like shrinking away, never having so much attention turned onto him all at once. Suddenly he feels silly in his tight pants and his fluffed up hair and his sparkly eyelids. There are multiple pairs of eyes studying him and his outfit and Louis tries his hardest to avoid them. He nearly whines when he stares at his shoes instead, noticing the scuff marks on the noses.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, a worried frown above his eyes.

Louis bites on the inside of his cheek and wills his knees to stop trembling. “Fine,” he croaks. He knows he’s rude by not answering Harry fully but his teeth are chattering and all he wants is to dive headfirst back into the carriage and never coming out again. He wonders if this is what’ll happen all the time if he and Harry stay together. A sick feeling rolls around in his stomach at the thought.

“Wow, loads of people here tonight,” Liam grins broadly, not having noticed Louis’ distress. “Let’s go inside, it’s getting quite chilly now that the sun is gone.” He holds out his arm and Zayn takes it, smiling at him.

Louis hears Harry taking a deep breath next to him. “I know it’s stressful, little one, but try to stay as calm as possible. I know you can,” he gives Louis a smile. “I am actually allowed to have my arm around you now. Are you okay with that?”

Louis jerkily nods. “Yes, please.” He wonders if he’ll make it up the stairs leading up to the theatre if Harry’s arm wouldn’t be around his waist.

The walk up to the entrance is even worse, people whirling around to squint at them and then hurdle in their groups again, murmurings rising in the dark sky. Louis catches words and phrases and he even hears his name – wondering how the people know that already. He feels like one of the fish he once caught in his uncle’s pond. Days he spent studying the fish in the bowl and now – he thinks he should’ve known better. No one likes being watched and judged like this. His fish probably didn’t either.

 _I hate this, I hate this_ , Louis keeps chanting in his head, biting down on his lower lip to keep all of his composure locked in his body. He doesn’t know why he was so excited this afternoon. He’s never felt this looked-down-upon in his entire life. Perhaps his mother was right, maybe the rich are savages looking to tear his limbs off. Even though it’s only figuratively speaking, his breathing hitches in his throat. He tries to focus on Harry’s large hand covering the side of his ribs, his long fingers wrapping in the fabric of his coat. The only murmurs which are familiar to his ears, are the ones of Zayn and Liam. They are walking the steps in front of him, heads close together and Louis sees the broad smile on Zayn’s face. His brother never had the trouble of feeling out of place, and that proves itself once again. Zayn never feels like – ironically – a fish out of water.

Louis doesn’t get the time to feel any sibling resentment towards his brother because he’s walking through the theatre’s doors, warmth enveloping him. Big chandeliers on the arched ceiling cast down bright lights on him. The red carpet underneath his feet seems soft enough to take a nap on.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Harry asks him. He says it so simply, like he wouldn’t expect Louis to find it hard, and that discourages Louis to say the truth.

Instead, he shakes his head and says with a wobbly voice, “Piece of cake. Don’t know what the big deal was.” The confidence he was aiming for doesn’t sound through the words. His ego hasn’t gotten a boost because of the eyes watching him – instead he feels smaller than he’s ever felt before.

Harry notices the off sound in his voice as well because his eyes squint slightly and he is studying Louis’ closely.

“Okay, I have the tickets here,” Liam’s bright voice chips in again, stirring them both from the silence. He takes the parchments from the inner pocket of his coat and waves them a bit. “The play starts in fifteen minutes so we should head inside now.”

The four of them walk over towards the cloakroom and hang their coats together on the free hangers. Louis’ hands tremble when he gives his coat to Zayn.

Louis sees Zayn frowning at him in confusion and he fakes a smile. “I’m okay, Zayn.”

“Shall we go inside, love?” Harry smiles gently, his hand on Louis’ back.

“Actually,” Louis hears his own voice waver, “I have to use the restroom. But it’s okay, you three can go inside and find our spots.”

Harry glances at the door of the auditoria. “Are you sure? I could wait here for you, it’s not a problem at all, darling.”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s okay, you can go inside. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Harry bites his lower lip for a second and then nods. “Okay. Our seats are in the last row on the left, they’re easy to spot from the doorway,” he says, his thumb rubbing along Louis’ vertebrae through his shirt.

Louis nods and waits until Harry, Zayn and Liam have gone into the auditoria before walking towards the restrooms.

He needs to splash some water in his face – carefully, not wanting to mess up his eye shadow – and get himself together before he can properly go inside and enjoy the evening like he’s supposed to. There’s a lump in the back of his throat, and it feels like panic is trying to burst apart inside of him and take over his body.

He takes a few deep breaths as he walks over towards the restrooms, his chest expanding with every inhale. The air is knocked out of him when he bumps into someone.

“Oh, pardon me, ma’am!” Louis quickly says, eyes widening at the woman he nearly knocked over.

“Watch where you go for Pete’s sake!” the woman fusses, fixing her dresses. She looks back up at Louis. “Who do you thi – wait.” She frowns at Louis and takes a step closer to him. “I’ve seen you before, back outside a few minutes ago. You were with Sir Harry Styles.”

Louis feels the wave of panic flare up and swallows hard. “Y-Yes ma’am, I am here with Sir Harry Styles.”

The older woman squints her eyes at him. “Are you his younger brother, nephew maybe?”

“No,” Louis chokes out, frowning at the idea, “He is courting me.”

The shrill laugh of the woman pierces Louis’ ears and he feels like shrinking underneath her taunting gaze. He crosses his arms over his chest, doing what Zayn calls closing in on himself.

“Courting _you_?” The woman nearly spits the word. “I have known Harry Styles for years. Years, I tell you, and I know for a fact that he wouldn’t court someone like you.”

Each word hits Louis’ like a knife to the heart but he can’t help but blink rapidly. “Someone like me?”

A disgusted twitch appears around the mouth of the older woman. “Young and poor. You barely look eighteen and there,” she probes her wrinkly finger in his shoulder, “I see a loose thread on your shirt. The Harry Styles I know would never voluntarily walk around with someone like you.”

“I-I swear, I mean it. He is courting me for about three weeks now,” Louis tries, voice wavering. “Tonight is our first public outing so t-that’s why a lot of people haven’t seen me before with him.”

 The woman raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. “What did you do then? Did you let him take your virtue for money and threatened to tell everyone if he left you hanging? You wouldn’t be the first one to try it with wealthy men.”

Louis’ eyes are burning with tears threatening to spill out. His throat constricts painfully. “N-No! I’m not a prostitute,” he croaks out, the corners of his mouth wobbling.

“That’s what they all say,” the older woman says calmly, not fazed by Louis’ distress. “But your trousers are tight enough and that shiny stuff on your eyes – everyone knows what you truly are. The worst part is that you’re not even hiding it. Are you proud of being a whore?”

Louis feels his heart beating painfully quick inside his chest, his nerve endings feeling ripped apart and exposed raw by this woman’s harsh words. “I-I swear, I’m not a prostitute! I’m just a gentleman’s son from H-Hertfordshire,” he says desperately, tears clinging to his eyelashes when he blinks twice.

 The woman’s frown deepens. “Well boy, that sounds even worse than a prostitute. You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking about going near men like Harry Styles. You’re not even worthy of cleaning his shoes,” she spits her venomous words. “We’ll see how long he tolerates you before he pays you off.” She gives Louis one last sneer and then turns around, catching up with her party of friends and disappearing into the auditoria.

Louis slumps against the wall, his heart still beating rapidly. He bites down harder on his lower lip to keep himself from crying, but the tension in his face just makes the tears spill easier. The tears are hot against his already flushed cheeks.

He wipes his eyes on his sleeve and ducks inside the cloakroom, swinging the door close behind him. He presses his back harshly against the cold wood, sinking to the floor when the first sobs escape his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I'm very sorry for sad!Louis. Talk about date-night from hell lol.  
> \- I was planning to make this one long chapter but I've decided to cut it in two, keep some extra suspense. The next chapter should be up tomorrow or on Sunday!  
> \- Come cry with me and Louis on [tumblr](http://www.hazza-andtommo.tumblr.com)
> 
> Feedback would be lovely! ~~even if you're going to scream at me for making you emotional~~  [](http://www.hazza-andtommo.tumblr.com)  
> 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry begins to worry where Louis is at and goes to find him. Liam has a secret which he should tell Zayn as soon as possible, but he doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I am very sorry for all the heartbreak and tears I caused with the last chapter! This chapter has a good level of angst as well but I don't think I'll cause any tears to spill.  
> \- Thank you for the amazing feedback!

Harry twists around in his chair, looking at the door of the auditoria. It’s been ten minutes since Louis said he had to use the restroom and he was getting a bit worried. The crowd would be overwhelming for him, Harry had predicted that already. However, seeing Louis so closed off and small since he got out of the carriage – it made Harry’s heart clench with guilt. Perhaps it all was a bit too soon.

He looks sideways, Liam sitting next to him. His friend is nearly crawling into Zayn’s lap, making the eldest Tomlinson laugh harder than Harry ever heard him laugh. He frowns a bit at that, remembering Liam’s announcement earlier today, but he decides to let it slide when he sees the doors of the auditoria closing.

“I’m worried about Louis. He should’ve been back by now,” he says to Liam, leaning his elbow on the armrest. He tugs a loose curl behind his ear and waits until Liam decides to turn to him.

“It’s only been a few minutes, give him some space, Harry,” Liam eventually says, turning towards Harry.

“It has been more than a few minutes. He has been gone for nearly fifteen minutes. Something must’ve happened, I’m going to look for him,” Harry says determinedly, standing up from his plush velvet chair. A few people in the room turn their heads at him.

“I am coming as well,” Zayn says, standing up. “It wouldn’t be proper if you would go off alone and Louis is my brother after all.”

“Honestly, I don’t give a damn Zayn.” Harry holds his hand up, “As long as we make sure Louis hasn’t run back to the carriage or something like that.”

Zayn frowns slightly at Harry’s remark but before he can say something, Liam stands up from his chair as well and tugs his jacket straight. “Well, I am not sitting here by myself so I’ll come too.” They shuffle out of the last row after each other. Zayn walks ahead of them and Liam tugs Harry back by his sleeve. “I know you’re irritated by the way this night is going,” he says lowly, making sure Zayn doesn’t hear them. “But you could be a bit nicer to Zayn. It’s only understandable that he has to go with you to search for Louis.”

“That’s pretty hypocritical of you, Liam. Telling me that _I_ have to be nice to Zayn.”

“Harry,” Liam hisses. “Not here, not now.”

“Fine, I’m sorry ,” Harry sighs, shrugging away from Liam. “It doesn’t take away the fact that Louis is my boy and he isn’t here right now. I have more important things on my mind than to remember to be nice to other people who aren’t Louis.” He speeds up his pace and walks next to Zayn.

The large hallway is nearly empty, the only people lingering behind are the staff of the theatre. They look up with questioning glances when the three men walk into the hall. One of them makes his way over to Liam and asks him; “Is there anything I can help you with, gentlemen?”

Liam starts to talk but Harry cuts him off, “Have you seen a short boy, brown hair and blue eyes? He was supposed to be inside for the play but he never came.”

The clerk raises his eyebrows at Harry’s sharp tone. He seems to think for a bit but then he shakes his head. “No, I cannot remember seeing anyone here. But I was clearing the auditoria before the play started so I could’ve easily missed him.”

Harry grits his teeth and turns around again, looking through the hallway once more. “Fucking fantastic,” he mutters to himself.

“Sir?” The clerk speaks up again. “Maybe you could check to see if his coat is still here? Then you will at least know if he is in the building or not. No one will leave without their coat on a chilly night like this after all.”

“Thank you, that is a good idea,” Harry nods. He pushes his hands in the pockets of his trousers and his jaw is tensed. “Over there, that’s where the cloakroom was?” He nods in the direction of a small corridor.

“Yes, I could show it to you, if you want?” The clerk walks ahead of them. Harry follows behind, as well as Zayn and Liam.

They walk into the corridor and stop in front of a wooden door. The clerk pushes the handle down but the door doesn’t open.

“That’s odd,” he mumbles, pushing a little harder against the polished wood. “It won’t open.”

“What do you mean, it doesn’t open?” Harry asks, irritation furrowing his brow. “Don’t you have a key or something? Who would lock the door to the cloakroom, for God’s sake?”

“Be quiet,” Zayn’s voice suddenly chips in.

Harry turns around on his heel, facing Zayn. “No, I won’t be quiet and since when do you tell me what to—”

“Listen!” Zayn hisses.

Harry falls quiet and listens. He doesn’t hear anything for a few seconds and opens his mouth to talk again – until he suddenly does hear something. A muffled whimper comes through the door.

“Louis,” Harry and Zayn say at the same time.

“Let me,” Zayn says, knocking against Harry’s shoulder to push the older man away from the door.

“What the f—” Harry begins to say but Liam pulls him back before Harry can push his way to the door again.

Zayn softly taps his knuckles on the door. “Louis? Lou, are you in there?” he asks, voice gentle.

Harry crosses his arms over his chest but listens closely. There is no sound coming from the other side of the door.

“Boobear,” Zayn mumbles, rapping his knuckles against the door again. “It’s okay, it’s just me, Liam and Harry. I don’t know what happened, but can you please open the door for me?”

When there are sniffles and choked sounds coming from behind the door again, Harry nearly surges forward but Liam holds him back.

“Just let Zayn do this for a bit, okay? I know you don’t like the idea, but he does know Louis best,” Liam says, his palm rubbing circles between Harry’s tensed shoulder blades.

Harry turns to Liam. “Louis is in there. Crying. Probably because of me – and now you’re saying I should let _Zayn_ handle this?”

“I am pretty sure that whatever Louis is upset about doesn’t involve anything you did. You’ve been nothing but kind to him,” Liam says. He turns around towards the clerk who is still standing there, a curious expression on his face. “That will be all, thank you. We’ll call upon you if we need help with anything else.”

The clerk seems hesitant to leave, this probably being the most exciting thing of tonight for him, but he nods at Liam. “Of course, Sir. I will be in the main hall.”

As the man’s footsteps retreat, there is a small sound behind the door.

“Zayn?”

Louis’ voice is small and sounds choked-up. Harry harshly twists his fingers together.

“I’m here, Lou,” Zayn says. “Can I come inside?”

There’s a bit of shuffling to be heard before Louis’ voice is audible again. “Just you, Zee.”

At those words, Harry lets his eyelids fall close, head falling slightly. He tries not to let his hurt ego cloud his judgment but it’s difficult. If it were up to him, he’d barge inside and demand Louis to tell him what is wrong so he could fix it immediately. He knows why he can’t do that though, so he gives Zayn a short nod. “You heard what he said. Just you.”

Zayn gives him a grateful smile before turning back to the door. He tries the handle again and this time it gives. He pushes the door open and slips inside, closing it behind him.

Harry leans against the wall, listening to his own heartbeat pumping in his ears. He wonders what could have made Louis so sad that he had to hide instead of confront Harry about it. It’s not like Louis at all. If Louis was angry or upset with him then he would say it, he always had before. He tries to think of things he did tonight to which Louis reacted badly. Every possible scenario goes through Harry’s head, from the moment he picked Louis up tonight to the last time he saw him, when Louis gave him a crooked smile before he headed off towards the restrooms. Louis had seemed to be feeling out of place but he was nothing close to the crying boy behind the door right now.

“You’re thinking it’s your fault, right?” Liam’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

Harry doesn’t want to talk. He hopes he can pick up some words through the door, but all he hears are muffled voices. He then shrugs and says, “Of course it is. I was the one to take him here in the first place and now see what happened,” he gestures towards the door, “He’s hiding away from me, so don’t try to convince me that this whole ordeal isn’t my fault. I know it is.” Harry tries to keep his voice and face as level and emotionless as he can, but every word he says hits home. He only realises it even more that he caused Louis to be upset.

“Harry,” Liam sighs, “For the last time – Louis seemed just fine when we last saw him. Something must’ve happened to him in the meantime, there’s no other explanation.”

“Well then why doesn’t he want to talk to me, hm?” Harry blurts, balling his fists. “I fucked up, Li, even if I don’t know what I did. He’s just—” his voice cracks, “I just – I don’t want him to think badly of me and not letting me do anything about it.”

“You don’t know that,” Liam presses. “Maybe he suddenly felt sick or maybe he ran into someone he doesn’t like – I don’t know. Anything could’ve happened Harry, but you’re only blaming yourself. Why are you so adamant that he’s mad with you?”

“Because _I_ would be mad with me!” Harry exclaims. “I just feel like I am putting too much pressure on him by taking him out to events like this. But I have no other choice because otherwise the rumours about him and me are going to boil up even more. I’ve already heard some pretty nasty shit going around and Louis - Louis doesn’t deserve it! He deserves a relationship which is calm and private and that’s exactly everything that a relationship with me is not – I’m far from calm and my life is far from private.” Harry sighs and leans his head back against the wall. “I never noticed it before, you know? Never noticed how my life is confined in every part but now that I’m partly sharing it with Louis – I wish it would be different. I wish that I could introduce him to people without having to answer questions about his age or his social status. Like I said, he’s only seventeen and he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever known. He doesn’t deserve to deal with all of this.”

Harry brings his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes and pushing his hair away from his forehead. He doesn’t hear the sound of the door opening but the quiet, “Harry?” derails his depressive train of thoughts.

His eyes snap open and he sees Louis standing in front of him, clutching onto the handle of the door. Louis’ eyes are red and there are blotches of glitters on his cheeks. His lower lip looks bitten raw and Harry surges forward, enveloping the boy in his arms and holding on tightly. “Oh baby, what happened to you?” he whispers in Louis’ hair, not caring about both Zayn and Liam standing right there.

Zayn walks out of the cloakroom and sides up next to Liam. “I think I’ll go back to the play since act two will probably start in a few minutes. You coming with me, Li?” he asks, looking at Liam.

Liam hesitates, “Shouldn’t at least one of us stay with Harry and Louis? What if someone sees them together without us present?”

Zayn tugs softly on Liam’s arm and smiles gently at him. “I think Louis and Harry need to talk about some things and they can do it without us being there and making it uncomfortable.”

Liam shrugs in concession and Harry gives Zayn a thankful smile. The eldest Tomlinson just motions towards Louis before he and Liam walk out of the corridor.

“Can we go into the cloakroom?” Louis asks, his voice a bit hoarse. His eyes are blue and watery as he looks up at Harry. “I just want to be sure no one sees us.”

Harry tugs on his curls one last time but then nods. “Of course, little one. I understand,” he says and he guides Louis back into the cloakroom, closing the door behind them.

“I just want to say I’m sorry,” Louis starts, entwining his own fingers together and squeezing them. “It was silly of me to run off in here without letting you know what was going on. I didn’t mean to leave you but I was so upset and I was crying and Zayn told me I should’ve just come to you but I didn’t want you to see me cry because I don’t want you to think that I—”

“Woah, woah,” Harry interrupts, “Slow down, Lou. You should know that you can tell me anything and I don’t care if you have to cry or not. Just – just tell me why please? I’ve been worried sick about what I could’ve done wrong tonight. Was it the theatre, is it too much or,” his voice wavers, “or are you having second thoughts about us? About me?”

He studies Louis’ expression closely to gauge his reaction. A small feeling of relief floods through him when Louis’ eyes widen in surprise.

“What?” Louis asks, shaking his head in disbelief, “No, no, that’s not what this is about Harry. Please tell me you haven’t been thinking this?”

“It passed my mind,” Harry says, lifting up his hand and gently sliding a finger along Louis’ cheekbone. “And I am not mad at you if you would be having second thoughts because I would be having second thoughts with me as well.”

“Don’t say that, Harry,” Louis frowns, closing the space between them and he brings his hands up to cup Harry’s cheeks. He stands up on his tiptoes to look the taller man in his eyes. “I would never have second thoughts about you – but other people want me to. They are putting thoughts in my head that make me wonder if I am not good enough for you. They tell me I’m too young, too inexperienced with everything, I’ve barely had any education and I disobey every rule in the book. And you, you have so much to lose and I can’t bear the thought that I am going to be the one to cause that,”

“What are you talking about, Lou?” Harry asks, confusion clouding his mind. “You are giving me so much happiness, can’t you see that? Who made you think you’re going to cause me to lose everything? Is it something I said?”

“No,” Louis sniffles, tears gathering in his eyes. “But there was a woman earlier, I bumped into her in the hallway when I went to the restroom. She said such horrible things about me and how you’re going to get sick of me and pay me off to make me leave you.” Louis’ shoulders shake and Harry can’t catch the tears in time, they’re spilling down his boy’s glittery cheeks again.

“Nonsense, nonsense,” he says, wrapping his arms around Louis’ shoulders and pulling him close. He feels Louis’ arms sliding around his waist and he presses a kiss to Louis’ head. “Nonsense,” he repeats again, shaking his head, “I’m not going anywhere, Louis. I never thought I was going to court someone because I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t get on my nerves after an hour—”

Louis sniffles but smiles slightly and Harry takes it as a win.

“—but you’re different, Lou. You’re funny and sharp-tongued and you challenge me in ways I have never been challenged. Nothing is going to change my opinion of you, I’m completely gone for you, little one, and it doesn’t scare me anymore. The only thing that scares me is that one day you’ll decide you don’t want me anymore, and that’s exactly the same thing that scares you. But it’s never going to happen. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not even when people are going to say that I’m a whore? The woman seemed pretty convinced that I was,” Louis asks, looking up at Harry.

Harry feels anger blooming inside his chest, eyes darkening. “No, not even then. Because I know it’s not the truth and everyone who will judge me for courting you can go to hell.” He kisses the top of Louis’ head. “How could anyone in their right mind think that you’re a whore?”

“Because my clothes are tight and I wear glitters,” Louis mumbles. “ _And_ I’m too young for you and too poor. This list is starting to get really old now, but it still hurts me because people actually have a point. It doesn’t look good that I’m with you.”

“I don’t care,” Harry whispers, “I don’t fucking care anymore Louis. Everyone can criticise everything but that doesn’t get anyone any further. I know she hurt your feelings, I know she made you upset – and I will make her pay for that – but you will never have to doubt me and my feelings for you, okay?”

Louis nods, hands fisting in Harry’s jacket and he presses his nose against the fabric to inhale the scent of Harry. When he pulls back he starts to blush. “I got glitters all over your jacket,” he whispers, tugging his sleeve down and over his hand to clean it up.

Harry catches his hands though, and pulls him in again. “It’s okay, I like the glitters. They make you look so pretty and it doesn’t matter if they’re on your eyelids or on your cheeks or on my jacket.”

Louis smiles until his eyes crinkle and he keeps staring at Harry silently for a few seconds before asking, “Kiss me?”

Harry nods slowly and puts his hands on Louis hips, turning the boy around. He walks them back a few steps until Louis’ back is against the door. “Yes,” he mutters, threading a hand through Louis’ hair, “I’m going to kiss you.”

He leans in and presses their lips together, feels Louis’ chest expanding against his own when the boy inhales sharply. Louis’ lips are chapped and taste salty from the tears but Harry kisses it away, sucking on his bottom lip until it’s soft and wet again. Louis’ hands are pressed against his lower abdomen and move upwards until Harry feels the cold hands squeezing his warm neck softly. He deepens the kiss with a groan, Louis opening his lips willingly for him and letting him lick into his mouth. His thumb presses softly against Louis' jaw, guiding the boy in the kiss to which Louis responds gratefully. There’s a small hitch in Louis’ breath and he presses his lips firmer against Harry’s and this time Harry feels his own breath shuddering in his lungs.

He freezes when Louis pushes up against him, connecting their hips and Harry realises just how much Louis’ eagerness and the wet slide of Louis’ tongue affects him and his body. A groan leaves his throat and he twists his fingers in Louis’ hair, pressing the boy against the door. He lowers his head and presses kisses against Louis’ neck, pushing his hair back a little so he can suck on the soft skin behind his ear.

Louis keens and lets his head fall back against the door, fingers scrambling to touch more of Harry. He lets out a soft moan when their groins connect again, mouthing at Harry’s cheekbone as the older man finishes sucking on his skin. Harry draws Louis in for another kiss and drops his hands from Louis’ waist to his bottom, moaning in Louis’ mouth as he cups his arse through his trousers. Louis lets out a whine against Harry’s lips, trying to push his crotch against Harry’s but at the same time trying to push back into Harry’s hands.

There is a sudden sharp knock on the door and Harry’s lips leave Louis’, his hand quickly coming up to cover Louis’ mouth – smothering the startled squeak.

“For the love of God, please come out now,” they hear Liam’s stern voice. “The first two acts have finished and people are coming into the hallway again.”

“Thanks, Li,” Harry chokes out, having difficulty with speaking because Louis is still pressing up against him. “We’ll get ourselves sorted out and join you and Zayn shortly.”

“Three minutes before I am knocking again and then I will barge in,” Liam warns.

“You really are no fun.” Zayn’s fond chuckle sounds a bit further off but Harry hears it and has to smile.

“Zayn has a point, Liam,” Harry says, “Don’t worry, we’ll be out in a few.”

He waits until he hears Liam’s footsteps retreating from the door and then he turns back around to Louis. And that is definitely a sight.

There is glitter all over Louis’ face, Harry’s thumbs having rubbed it across his cheekbones and behind his ears. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are red and wet, eyes shining brightly again.

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look at how gorgeous you are, little one.”

Louis smiles, more red spiking his cheeks. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Harry pulls Louis in his arms again, pressing his lips against the boy’s ear. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t have stopped,” he whispers, “I would’ve want to see how far we could go until I would make you tremble.”

“Shit,” Louis whines, pressing his body against Harry’s, “You weren’t so far off, you know.”

Harry groans and kisses Louis’ lips. “You really shouldn’t say stuff like that, sweetheart. One day it will make me lock the door and have my way with you.”

“Oh God,” Louis moans, pressing up against Harry again, “I wish you would, Haz, I wish you would.”

Harry kisses Louis one last time before pulling back. “Damn,” he mutters, taking a few steps back. His eyes never leave Louis and he fights himself to push the boy against the door again.

“I can’t go back inside looking like this,” Louis quickly says, trying to break the sexual tension hanging in the room. “I have glitter everywhere and the people will literally slaughter me.”

“They won’t, I will not let that happen,” Harry shakes his head. He unties the white fabric of his cravat and steps closer to Louis again. He smiles slightly when he sees Louis’ eyes widening in anticipation. It takes some effort to not touch Louis inappropriately again but he wills himself to be the adult here. He carefully cleans Louis’ face of most of the glitters. He doesn’t pat away the ones on his jacket, though.

After a few minutes of catching their breaths, they separately leave the cloakroom. Harry goes first and stands next to Liam and Zayn. The play is about to begin on the last act of the night. Harry hopes he’ll be able to keep his hands off of Louis throughout the remaining part.

He feels himself smiling when Louis appears, his boy making his way through the crowds. Louis doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes but he looks a bit more at ease, there are no hunched shoulders or insecure fiddling. Until Louis catches the eye of someone across the room and Harry can literally see the blood draining from his face.

He walks away from Zayn and Liam to meet Louis halfway, his eyes following Louis’ line of sight.

“Do you see the woman who insulted you?” He asks, taking Louis’ hand.

Louis nibbles on his lower lip for a second and then he nods, meeting Harry’s eyes. “She is near the entrance of the auditoria, wearing the purple and green dress.”

Harry looks over and spots the woman quickly, recognising her vaguely but not remembering her name. “Alright,” he clears his throat and curls his arm possessively around Louis’ waist, “Come with me, little one. I’m going to have a chat with her.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Louis asks, eyes flicking up to Harry’s face.

“No,” Harry smiles down at Louis, “But I am angry and I won’t let her get away with it – even if you are strong enough to get over her hurtful words.”

Louis bites his lip nervously but he trusts the determined tone in Harry’s voice. He lets the older man guide them across the room. His insides are turning when they approach the older woman.

“Sir Harry Styles,” she smiles, curtsying before him. “What a lovely surprise to see you here this evening. Did you enjoy the first two acts of the play?”

She appears to be kindness itself but by the way Louis is studying the marble floor and biting his nails nervously, Harry knows she’s not.

“Unfortunately I have not,” he says. “I couldn’t watch the first part because Louis was feeling upset, which was caused by the words you spoke to him.”

The woman’s eyes flick to Louis’ for a second. “Nonsense!” She smiles, “I had a lovely chat with your boy – at least, I am assuming you’re courting him? I have heard the rumours after all.”

“And I have no doubt you’re contributing to them as well,” Harry adds seamlessly. “As for the fact that you had a lovely chat – I know that it wasn’t. You’re lying to me and if you truly claim to know me so well, you would know that I hate it when people lie to me.”

“Well,” the woman raises her eyebrows, “Maybe it’s him who is lying.” She nods to Louis.

Harry smiles at her but his eyes stay dark. “I doubt that. Louis would never lie to me, ma’am. But you have and that adds to the reasons why I am demanding of you to never visit Pemberley ever again. Your access will be denied for every social gathering, as will the private visits.”

“You have no solid proof to do such a thing,” the woman exclaims. “Sir Styles, that’s outrageous!”

“No,” Harry says sharply, stepping closer and towering over the woman. “What’s outrageous is that you insulted Louis with false accusations – and told him things about me that aren’t true. You, ma’am, should be ashamed of yourself. Excuse us.”

Harry steps back and Louis instinctively nestles under his arm. Harry feels the boy squeezing his waist tightly as they walk away from the woman, who is fussing to herself. She will not tell her friends, Harry reckons, the shame of being denied at Pemberley is too big to spread a rumour about his hostility.

“Are you okay?” he whispers to Louis, pressing a kiss to the top of the boy’s head.

Louis nods jerkily. “I am now. Thank you, sir.”

“Good,” Harry says, guiding them towards the auditoria. “Now, let’s try to make some sense of this play, even though we missed the first hour,” he smiles. Louis smiles back at him, lifting a finger to gently trace the glitters still stuck to Harry’s jacket.

-

When they arrive back at Longbourn, it’s well past midnight. Louis head is lolling on Harry’s shoulder, the boy was exhausted and fell asleep the minute they left the theatre.

The carriage comes to an abrupt stop and Harry helps a drowsy Louis out of the carriage. He carefully leads the boy across the yard to the front door.

“I will make sure Louis gets inside and into bed as soon as possible. I also have to talk to Mr Tomlinson and give him my apologies for bringing Louis home way past his curfew,” he tells Liam.

Liam nods and waves at Louis, the boy smiling sleepily at him before disappearing into the house with Harry.

“Well,” he sighs, turning to Zayn, “That was some night, wasn’t it?”

Zayn nods slowly, “You could say that. It was especially hard on Louis but I think he is alright again. It’s remarkable how much it helps him when he talks to Harry. They really are something different together.”

Liam nods, leaning against the carriage with one shoulder. “I know. I have never seen Harry so infatuated with someone. It will last, I think.”

Zayn smiles, “I hope so too. Perhaps we’ll have a wedding soon and then it’s your turn to show me every corner of the ballrooms at Pemberley,” he grins openly at Liam.

But instead of Liam blushing and smiling back – like he always does when they talk about these things – he chews nervously on his bottom lip and he avoids to meet Zayn’s eyes.

“What is it?” Zayn asks, already picking up that something’s off.

“I – I wanted to tell you earlier,” Liam begins, picking at a loose thread on his coat. “Harry pushed me to tell you before the play started. But with everything that was going on with Louis, I didn’t think it was the right time and the right place.”

“Time and place for what exactly?” Zayn asks, taking a small step forward.

“To tell you that I am going to court someone,” Liam says, “A woman.”

Zayn abruptly steps back like he’s been shot with an arrow. He stares at Liam. “You’re joking,” he mumbles. “You don’t fall for women, Liam – you’ve told me that yourself.”

“I know,” Liam says, lowering his gaze to the gravel underneath his feet. “But unlike Harry, I still have parents who have a say in whom I should marry. And they think it will be good for our estate if I marry one of the Smith daughters.”

“Smith daughters?” Zayn raises his voice. “So your family is having financial problems and you have to fix it by marrying into one of the richest families in the country?”

“It’s not that we have financial problems,” Liam shakes his head, “It’s more of a precaution.”

“Which makes it even more ridiculous,” Zayn adds, his brow furrowing.

“Zayn,” Liam sighs, stepping closer, “I know we have a special thing going on between us and I love spending time with you – but we both knew that it wasn’t going to last forever, right?”

When Zayn stares stubbornly into the garden and stays quiet, Liam asks again, “Right, Zayn?”

Zayn twist his head back to Liam, his jaw sharp with the tension. “Speak for yourself. But fine – if you really claim to have no choice in the matter, then it’s fine with me. Go marry one of the Smith’s, they’ll be ecstatic because all of them have been fawning over you ever since the ball at Netherfield. I would know, Liam, because I got their glares for dancing with you. Why do you think I was so desperate to get you as my dance partner for every, single, fucking, dance?”

“Zayn, calm down,” Liam whispers, putting his hands on Zayn’s slender shoulders.

“No,” Zayn shrugs them off. “This really is my own fault. I warned Louis not to fall for Harry and he did it anyways. I don’t know why I was so stupid to think I could do the same.”

“Zee—” Liam tries.

“I hope you’ll have a good night’s sleep,” Zayn bows curtly, “Mister Payne.”

The formal name makes Liam’s fingers tremble but before he can speak up again, Zayn is walking off towards the front door and he disappears into the house.

Liam turns around to the carriage, kicking the wheel angrily. “Fuck!”

Harry walks back outside a few minutes later, a goofy and loved-up grin on his face. Liam almost hates him for it.

Harry stops in his step when he sees Liam and his smile falls. “I told you that you should’ve told him sooner.”

“I know,” Liam sighs, kicking the carriage’s wheel again. “Fuck Harry, don’t I fucking know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- So Harryandlouis are happy again and now Ziam is sad. Sorry for that. :(  
> \- Come clean off the glitters from Harry's jacket with me on [tumblr](http://www.hazza-andtommo.tumblr.com)
> 
> Feedback would be lovingly drooled upon!


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Thank you so much for the feedback!  
> \- I don't really like this chapter because it has smut and I am pretty bad, pretty fucking bad, at writing smut. I apologise beforehand!  
> \- Some of you asked for Zayn not to forgive Liam immediately. Well, don't say I never gave you anything. ;)
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

The second Louis opens his eyes, he knows it’s happened again. His cock is still hard in his underpants and the fabric is wet with come. He groans softly in frustration, rubbing a hand over his chest. His nipples are swollen and he shudders when his fingers brush the small nubs. He glances towards the window, the curtains are already pulled open and Zayn’s side of the bed is empty. Ever since Liam told Zayn he was going to court someone else – a woman even – Zayn had been getting up at the crook of dawn to take walks outside. Louis thinks it’s not healthy for his older brother to isolate himself so much. But on the other hand, he understands him too and leaves him alone while he’s having his mope fest.

Right now, Louis is thankful that Zayn isn’t here. He wraps his hand around his cock, moaning at the contact. His fingers are already slick with come and he bites down on his lower lip, moving his hand up and down. Ever since Harry had pushed him against the door in the cloakroom and dominated him, Louis’ thoughts had been filled with fantasies. He quickens his strokes, imagines Harry sucking on his neck and pressing him against a wall. A shaky moan escapes his lips and he brings his free hand up to his throat, pressing two fingers against the fading love bite behind his ear. The liquid feeling of pleasure drifts through him, making his toes curl and his back arch.

“Harry,” he moans through gritted teeth. Precome dribbles from the head of his cock and Louis wipes it away with his thumb, spreading it down his length. He wraps his hand around himself again, bucking his hips into the tight circle of his fingers. He wishes Harry was here, watching him, biting down on his lips and his curls moving along the sides of his face. Harry would know what to do – he would know how to make him scream, Louis is sure of it.

Because other than giving himself a stellar handjob, his knowledge of sex is pretty limited. Of course, the birds and the bees were something his parents explained to him a long time ago. But they left out the part of what will happen when you have sex with a man. And Louis – Louis wants to know.

He closes his eyes and tries to picture Harry’s hands roaming over his body. He remembers feeling insecure when Harry’s hands had squeezed his hips. But only a few seconds later he had felt Harry’s hard length pressing against his lower stomach. Louis had lost every coherent thought after that. All he knows is that he was enough. Pretty enough, sexy enough and experienced enough to make the older man hard.

Louis tenses up at the memory of Harry cupping his arse and his big hands squeezing the cheeks. He knows he acted like an impatient teenager, pushing up against Harry to feel his cock, but at the same time he'd wanted the man’s hands to hold him firmer. Louis’ mouth opens in a silent moan, remembering Harry’s tongue invading his mouth and licking everywhere he could reach – barely giving him a breather. Louis had absolutely loved it.

He feels balls tighten, his feet pressing into the mattress. His hips lift off the bed and he nearly bites through his lip when he comes, softly crying out Harry’s name. There’s only white in his eyes for a few seconds, his limbs trembling with the power of his orgasm.

His chest heaves a bit when he lies down completely again, quickly breathing in and out. “Fuck,” he mutters, carding his clean hand through his hair, making it stick out to all sides.

The shirt which he wore yesterday still hangs from one of the pillars of the bed. He arches up and snatches it, using it to clean up his tummy. He gets out of bed on shaky feet, balling the shirt up between his hands. His feet make a soft patting sound as he walks over towards the bathroom, thankful to find the bath full and still lukewarm. The water sloshes a bit when Louis sinks down into the bathtub, rubbing his arms and sinking deeper until everything below his ears is under water.

-

“Zayn!” He calls out an hour later, freshly washed and his stomach filled with breakfast. The weather is getting more pleasant every day, and Louis smiles at the sun shining down on him. He walks down the steps leading to their front door and uses the sole of his shoe to wipe out the pattern the carriage’s wheels made in the gravel.

Zayn is sitting in the grass near the lake, his sketchbook open on his lap and a stick of charcoal between his long fingers. His hair is getting longer and it curls at the nape of his neck – it makes him look softer. He turns around to Louis and waves at him.

“Morning Lou,” he says, closing the sketchbook. “Were you looking for me?”

Louis sits down in the grass next to Zayn, plucking a flower. As he takes off the leaves one by one, he says, “Yes, you need to come to Netherfield with me today. I want to see Harry.”

Zayn frowns. “No. You’ve seen him five days ago. Besides, I thought he was going back to Pemberley this week to take care of some business on the estate? It’s only Thursday.”

“I got a letter last night,” Louis said. “He came back earlier and he’s at Netherfield again. I want to see him, Zee.”

“Over my dead body that I’m going to Liam’s house right now,” Zayn mumbles, harshly pulling some grass from the soil. “If you’re dying and need to tell Harry your feelings before it’s too late – only then will I accompany you to Netherfield Park.”

“Oh, get off it, Zayn!” Louis whines, slamming his hands onto the ground. “It’s not like you’ll have to be around Liam when you’re there – you usually go off outside anyway.”

“Exactly, so why do you need me to come with you?” Zayn asks stubbornly, hugging his knees. “Liam has to come to me first with his apology – I am not some helpless kitten who crawls after him.”

“You’re not crawling after him, you’re being my chaperone,” Louis points out.

“It’ll look like I’ve forgiven him – which I haven’t, thank you very much,” Zayn huffs.

“Or you could put on your prettiest clothes and vent your frustrations onto Liam while Harry and I—” Louis stutters, “—play chess or something.”

Zayn looks up from his knees, eyes brightening in interest. “You think that would work?”

Louis shrugs. “I don’t know if it’ll work. I do know that you need to let Liam know that you’re not some heartbroken boy who sits around and pouts all day. Even though that’s exactly what you’ve been doing for the past week.”

Zayn knocks his shoulder against Louis, “Hey, that’s not nice.”

“But it’s true,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows pointedly. “You can ignore him all you like – whatever you want. But if you’re going to look gorgeous then he’ll know what he is missing out on because of his own fault.”

“That’s mean,” Zayn mumbles, staring at a flock of birds tumbling and soaring through the sky. “I love it.” He scrambles to his feet and gathers his sketchbook in his arms. “I’m going to get ready right now, I’ll be down in a bit!”

Louis smiles at Zayn’s running figure and turns his head back to the lake. He lets himself lie down, smiling up at the sky. The grass tickles against his skin and he gathers some strands in his hands. He holds them above his head and lets the grass flutter down, sneezing when one of the blades lands under his nose.

He thinks about seeing Harry again, wonders if the older man had missed him as much as Louis had. His skin still feels like it’s buzzing and he can’t shake the needy feeling of just wanting to be touched by Harry. It’s wrong, so wrong, because they are not officially allowed to even kiss each other and they’ve crossed that line already. Maybe that’s why he needs more, Louis thinks, he’s gotten the first taste and now he wants to eat the whole jar. Perhaps he should talk to Zayn about this impatient feeling of need he has for Harry. But he knows Zayn will tell him to ignore it and to stay within the proper lines of their courtship – and that is not what Louis wants to hear, at all. It’s not what he wants to do either. What he wants is for Harry to touch him, anywhere, everywhere, just to make the urge inside of him go away. He wants Harry to teach him things, he wants to know all the ways there are to make Harry hard for him.

Louis groans out loud and turns around, pressing his nose into the grass. He inhales the musky scent of nature and wills himself to think about things other than Harry’s smile, Harry’s hands or just Harry in general. Perhaps he’s going mad. It can’t be healthy for him to think about someone else in this way. Louis lifts himself up on his elbows, back arching. He tries to talk some sense into himself as for why he shouldn’t dig deeper into these feelings he has – but then the colour of Harry’s eyes wriggles its way back into his thoughts. Louis gives up. He is completely gone for the older man and he isn’t going to try to stop it – it’s useless after all.

He gets back onto his feet when he hears the front door of the house falling close. A smile finds its way onto his lips, seeing Zayn finally wearing a full outfit again. His brother also did his hair which hadn’t happened since the whole Liam Is A Dick incident.

“Look at you!” Louis calls out, walking towards his brother. He pats some grass off of his clothes and then looks up again, grinning at Zayn. “I almost forgot how pretty you were, but now I see it again.”

Zayn rolls his eyes but there is a mischievous smile on his lips. “Yeah, well. Let’s hope it’s enough to make Liam stutter stupidly at least three times during this visit.”

Louis laughs, “Zee, with the way you look right now, I have no doubt he’ll stutter more than three times in the span of one minute.” He holds his hands up. “But that is for you and him to bicker about, me and Harry will keep ourselves far, far away from you two. We haven’t had our first fight yet and I will not let you and Liam give us any ideas.”

“I’m not fighting with him,” Zayn says, walking over with Louis towards the stables.

“You literally walked away from him when he said he was going to court someone else. That’s a fight, Zee,” Louis points out, nodding at one of the stablemen. “If you had no option to walk away then you would’ve said some pretty nasty stuff, I think.”

“But I didn’t and I am quite proud of myself for that,” Zayn says.

“I am too,” Louis nodded, putting one foot into the stirrup and pulling himself up onto his horse. “But keep your calm this afternoon as well, please. I have no interest in pulling you off of him while you’re trying to strangle him.”

Zayn chuckles breathily, adjusting the reins. “I can’t make any promises, but I will try to keep my murderous thoughts to myself. Watching Liam struggle not to ogle me will hopefully give me enough satisfaction.”

Louis scoffs. “Otherwise I reckon your ego will.”

-

When they arrive at Netherfield, both Louis and Zayn are surprised when it’s Harry who greets them in the hallway, and not Liam.

“Louis,” Harry smiles, holding his hands out for him.

Louis quickly walks closer, taking Harry’s hands in his own and curtsying before him. “It’s lovely to see you again, Sir. I hope Liam isn’t ill?” he asks.

Harry shakes his head, looking at Louis and then at Zayn. “No, erm, Liam is quite alright. It’s just that there was an unexpected visit earlier this morning and Liam is with them in the drawing room.”

“Oh,” Louis tries his best not to pout. “Who is it?”

Harry looks at Zayn again before sighing, “It’s Sophia Smith and her parents. They were in the neighbourhood and decided to drop by without any further notice. I’m sorry, Zayn, it mustn’t been easy for you to come here – and now it’s only worse.”

Zayn looks at his feet, the corners of his mouth turned downwards. “Well,” he clears his throat, “I guess I’ll have to get used to it sooner or later. What better way to stop believing in a fairy tale than to witness the truth right in front of you?”

Louis clenches his jaw. “It wasn’t supposed to be a fairy tale in the first place,” he tells Zayn, an assuring tone in his voice. He turns towards Harry with a questioning look in his eyes. “Did Liam even show _any_ sign of regret? He led Zayn on for at least the same amount of time that we did. It’s not fair that he suddenly courts someone else and drops Zayn completely.”

“I know, Lou,” Harry nods, bringing his hand up to Louis’ face and cupping his cheek. “And trust me when I say that Liam hasn’t had it easy the past week. He tried reasoning with his parents but they didn’t listen.”

“Did he tell them about Zayn?” Louis presses, “Did he tell them how it was practically love at first sight for them?”

Harry blinks slowly and shakes his head. “He didn’t. I don’t know why he didn’t but he must have his reasons.”

“It’s simple, isn’t it?” Zayn says, shoulders hunched. “He never even saw me that way, didn’t think there was a future between us for just a minute.”

“No, Zayn,” Louis sighs, “Don’t say that. It’s easy to jump to that conclusion but I know what I saw. Liam did really like you.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Zayn says, shaking his head. He turns towards Harry and nods in the direction of the drawing room. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

Harry hesitates for a second, looking at Louis’ sad face because Zayn refuses to listen to him. He then nods and says, “Okay.”

They walk through the hallway and wait for the servant to announce their presence. The door is held open for them and they walk inside. Louis has to stifle a small giggle when he sees Liam’s pale face – like he just saw a ghost walk into the room.

Zayn, however, is composure itself and he bows before Sophia Smith and her parents. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Liam has told me so much about you.”

Sophia’s face clearly brightens yet Liam looks like he’s going to throw up. Zayn smiles and sits down on the sofa opposite from Liam.

“You must be Louis Tomlinson?” Mrs Smith asks. “We have heard so much about you, everyone is talking about your courtship.”

“Yes ma’am,” Louis bows. “I’m sure our courtship is the talk of the country lately.” He swallows hard and looks up at Harry for some assurance. The older man smiles gently at him and guides him to the sofa, both of them sitting down next to Zayn.

“I’m sure you and Harry’s courtship isn’t the talk of the town anymore, Louis,” Zayn says, directing his gaze at Liam. “It must be Sophia and Liam’s now! After all, your courtship came _absolutely_ unexpected.” Zayn smiles innocently.

Liam squirms and glances at Sophia. “I highly doubt we’re interesting enough to be gossiped about,” he says, looking uneasy.

“What are you talking about?” Mr Smith laughs, “Mr Tomlinson is right, we’ve been getting letters from London asking about you, Liam.”

“Really, all the way from London?” Liam’s voice hits an octave higher and he awkwardly threads a hand through his hair. “I wonder how the news travels so fast these days.”

“I have a lot of friends in London,” Sophia smiles. “You will absolutely love it there. The city is so exciting, much better than the countryside. I mean, what do you have here anyway, cows and open fields and a small village every six miles?”

“Well, some people like that,” Liam says.

“Sir Styles,” Sophia turns towards Harry, “I remember you not being charmed by the countryside either? Taylor told me all about that a few weeks ago.”

Louis frowns at that and reaches out his hand. Harry smoothly takes it between his own two hands and then smiles politely at Sophia. “The countryside does have its charms. Sometimes it just takes a while for someone to admit it that they have found a certain beauty.” He looks at Louis and gives him a small wink.

Louis smiles down at his knees, feels his cheeks turning blushing a shade of pink.

“I doubt that,” Sophia says. “All I see is dirt and people who practically live in the Middle Ages. The fashion is so pretty in London and here the women just don’t care! Some of them are dressed so boring, you hardly see them in the streets.”

Zayn nods his head fervently, the slightly mocking smile still playing on his lips. “I think Liam will agree with you Ms Smith. After all, I've heard him say multiple times  how none of the women here caught his attention. Eventually he even started pointing out men, can you believe it?” Zayn takes a sip of his tea.

Louis and Harry both squirm, trying to hold in their laughter. Louis knows he’s squeezing the life out of Harry’s hand but Harry squeezes back just has hard, his lips wobbling as he tries to keep his laughter in.

Sophia doesn’t seem to realise what is going on and turns towards Liam. “Oh, so you have noticed it too? I’m glad you have such a keen eye, it will come in very handy, I’m sure.”

Liam’s face is red and he just nods, blurting out, “Music! We need some music.”

Louis giggles and stands up from the couch. “If you’ll let me, Liam? I just learned a new piece on the piano at home.”

Liam nods, looking relieved at Louis’ offer. “Yes, Louis. Please.”

Harry stands up from the couch as well and walks along with Louis to the far side of the room.

The chatter between Mr and Mrs Smith and Zayn starts again, Liam looking like he wants to die and Louis finally lets himself laugh. He hits some keys onto the piano first, and then starts playing.

“I thought I was having a heart attack,” he tells Harry, the music loud enough for the rest of the people not to hear. “Did you see Liam’s face?”

Harry looks down at Louis, an endeared smile on his face when he sees the tears of laughter in the corner of Louis’  eyes. He nods and says, “Zayn is torturing Liam properly. I doubt it will help in the long run – but at least it’s a good way for him to let go of some frustration.”

“Zayn was a mess the past days, he took it really hard,” Louis says, scooting over on the piano bench.

Harry gets the hint and sits down next to Louis, his hand on the small of Louis’ back while the younger boy plays. “I can imagine, they were very close up until the moment Liam told him about Ms Smith. Let’s hope it’ll all work out in the end.”

“I hope so,” Louis says a bit absent-mindedly, focusing on the piece he’s playing. All the notes are inside his head and not on the sheet paper in front of him. Eventually he closes his eyes to concentrate better, lets his fingers slide along the keys of the big pianoforte.

Harry studies Louis’ face closely, sees how the sunlight catches on Louis’ hair and his pale but beautifully fair skin. Louis’ lips look pink and there is a faded bruise behind his ear. Harry nearly chokes on his own breath, coughing in his fist while his eyes don't leave the love bite on Louis’ skin.

Louis looks sideways, he keeps on playing but he gives Harry a questioning look. “Are you okay?” He notices Harry’s slightly flustered expression.

Harry nods and then leans in. “The bruise behind your ear. Is that because of me?” he whispers in Louis’ ear. His fingers curl against Louis’ back.

“Shit. Yes,” Louis whispers, and he stops playing. “Is it very visible?”

Liam looks up from the seating part of the drawing room. He still looks tormented and by the grin on Zayn’s face – Louis concludes his brother has not yet finished with his revenge. “Is something wrong?” Liam asks.

“Keep playing, Louis,” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear.

A warm wave of desire curls in Louis’ tummy, his fingers shaking a bit when he starts playing again. “It’s okay, Liam. There’s nothing wrong,” he assures him. The keys suddenly seem so heavy to press down, but Harry is smiling appreciatively at him.

“Good boy,” Harry whispers. It takes a lot for Louis not to moan out loud at the praise. Every thought he had in the morning is flooding back and he feels too hot all over, blood streaming faster in his veins.

Harry notices the flush on Louis’ cheeks and the slight tremble in his fingers. “Are you alright, love?” he whispers in Louis’ ear again.

Louis bites down on a whine. “Y-Yes, just – just stop whispering in my ear please,” he breathes. He feels his cheeks burning and he knows Harry can see the way his body is being responding to him right now.

A knowing smirk spreads on Harry’s lips and Louis feels like shrinking away, but at the same time he wants to sit on the man’s lap and expose his throat for him again. He keeps on playing though, his eyes fixed on where Liam and Zayn appear to be having a discussion. No one notices him and Harry – and he doesn’t know if he’s happy with that or not.

“You’re very responsive today, sweetheart,” Harry mutters in his ear again. “Care telling me why that is?”

Louis squirms a bit, hitting the wrong key. “Sorry,” he quickly says, opening his eyes and switching onto the piece on the sheet paper. At least now he doesn’t have to think about what he’s playing.

“Well?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows. He loves watching Louis flustered, it sets of a spark of need in him and he wants to hear Louis talk.

“I – erm. I had a dream about you last night,” Louis mumbles.

“That’s nice,” Harry smiles, “At least, if it was a nice dream. Was it a nice dream Louis?”

Louis feels like melted chocolate underneath Harry’s stare, the man’s slow and deep voice making him languid. He clears his throat, eyes fixed on the notes in front of him. “It was. A very nice dream.”

“Tell me about it?” Harry asks, pressing a kiss to Louis’ temple. Louis feels the man smile against his skin.

“I – I can’t. It won’t be proper,” he stutters, his fingers stumbling over a few notes.

Harry leans back, a pleased expression on his face. “You know,” he says slowly, “It only would be improper to tell me your dreams, if your dreams were improper. Now tell me Louis, and don’t lie to me. Did you improperly dream of me?”

Louis takes a deep breath, begging the floor to swallow him up. Harry’s voice and his teasing lips have made him half hard in his pants and his thoughts are clouded with arousal. “Yes,” he chokes out, “I dreamt improperly of you. I’m sorry.” He lowers his gaze, paying attention to his fingers drifting over the piano.

Harry leans in again. “Don’t be sorry, little one. I’m glad you told me.” He looks up at Liam and Zayn, both of them not paying any attention. “Now, I want you to stand up and ask Liam if you can borrow _Robinson Crusoe_ from his library.”

Louis frowns in confusion, “What?”

“Do it, love. Or else I am going to change my mind and trust me – that’s not what you want right now.”

There is a promise in Harry’s voice, mixed with something thicker. Louis nibbles on his lower lip, feels Harry’s hand sliding lower down his back until the older man squeezes his bum. Louis looks sideways, meeting Harry’s eyes and he sees the desire in them. His stomach makes a happy jump and he quickly stands up to his feet.

He clears his throat. “Erm, Liam?”

Liam stops talking, giving Zayn an annoyed look, and he turns towards Louis. “Yes? Is there anything the matter?” he asks.

“I was just, just wondering if I could visit your library for a while? I’d like to borrow _Robinson Crusoe,_ if that is okay with you?” Louis stumbles a bit over his words, seeing Harry’s unaffected smile from the corner of his eyes.

Liam shrugs and nods. “Yes, of course you can Louis. Thank you for playing the piano, it was lovely.”

“Thanks,” Louis says awkwardly before wriggling past Harry. He gives the Smith family a sort curtsy and then disappears from the room.

He stands in the hallway for a while, not exactly sure what he is supposed to do now. Harry didn’t tell him to go up to the library after all. There are three servants in the hallway, standing beside the three doors which lead to different rooms. Louis gives them a nod, not sure if he’s supposed to greet them or ignore them. They don’t have so many servants at Longbourn.

Suddenly the door of the drawing room opens, and Harry walks out. Louis bites down nervously on his lower lip, the anticipation building inside of him.

“Let’s go get your book, love,” Harry says. He seems to have collected himself again, because Louis can’t see any signs of the flustered Harry of a few minutes ago.

He doesn’t ask any questions when Harry leads them up the two flights of stairs. They pass the room Louis’ stayed in when Zayn was sick and Harry whispers in his ear, “I changed guestrooms after you stayed. It helps me fall asleep, knowing you slept in that bed too.”

Louis’ cock gives a twitch of interest. “Fuck,” he whispers, tripping over his own feet slightly.

Harry just chuckles and pushes the door of the library open. There aren’t any chandeliers on and the candles are out too. The only light comes from the windows but the curtains make it darker. Harry takes Louis’ hand and guides him further into the library, the smell of the old books filling their nostrils.

“Tell me about your dream, love.”

Louis gulps and coughs a bit. “Erm,” he stutters, walking behind Harry into a small nook of the library, books on either side of him.

Harry untangles their fingers and brings his hands up to Louis’ face. “Tell me, little one,” he mutters against Louis’ lips. “Tell me what your thoughts of me are in the darkest parts of the night.”

A whimper leaves Louis’ mouth and his knees buckle. Harry’s deep and sultry voice makes his legs feel like honey. “I think of your lips,” he breathes, his hands holding onto Harry’s shoulders.

“Hm? My lips?” Harry whispers, lowering his head and placing warm kisses on Louis’ neck.

“Yes,” Louis’ voice cracks, his eyes adjusting to the dark around them. “Your lips, kissing me, kissing my neck and sucking bruises in my skin.”

Harry’s chuckle is warm and breathy against the skin of Louis’ neck. “You like that, don’t you? You like it when I mark you as my own, showing everyone that you’re mine.”

Louis whines and the air leaves his body when his back comes into contact with a bookcase. Harry’s body is fit and lean against his own, the older man’s hands on his sides.

“You’re loving this so much, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“Yes.” Louis nods, cheeks burning with the confession. “I love it s-so much Harry. Every night I can’t stop thinking about you, about our kiss in the cloakroom. I wish—” he gasps when Harry pushes him harder against the bookcase, “—wish Liam hadn’t interrupted us. I wish you would’ve let go and do what you wanted to do to me. I’d let you, God, Harry, I would’ve let you do everything.”

“Fuck,” Harry’s voice cracks, his warm breath brushing over Louis’ lips. “You’ve no idea what you’re saying love, when you say that you would’ve done everything.”

“I know, but I want you to show me,” Louis whispers, feeling bolder with every quickened breath Harry takes. He lets his hands slide down Harry’s sides, holding on to the older man’s hips and pulling them against his own.

“Ngh,” Harry moans, their clothed erections rubbing against each other.

“I love it so much Harry,” Louis confesses, pressing kisses against Harry’s lips. He’s squirming to thrust against Harry, the outline of a thick cock pressed to his stomach. “Love it when I make you hard, love knowing that I can affect you.”

“Fuck Louis, of course you affect me,” Harry says, “You’ve got eyes that haunt me everywhere and your body, God.  You’ve got hips and thighs to die for and I just want to kiss and bite my way over them. They make me want to ravish you over and over until you can only whimper my name.”

Louis lets his head fall back against the bookcase, his cock throbbing in the confinement of his trousers. “Please, do it Harry, I need you so much,” he moans, trying to rub their erections together.

Harry grabs Louis’ hands, takes them off of his hips and presses them against the bookcase on either side of Louis’ head. He leans in and places a small, teasing kiss on Louis’ lips before pushing their hips together again.

Louis moans, feeling Harry’s hips circling against his own, causing amazing friction but it’s just not enough, not enough to make him come in his trousers. “Please,” he pants, “Give me something Haz. Teach me—”

His pleas are broken off by Harry’s lips covering his. He instinctively parts his lips, lets his mouth be invaded by Harry’s tongue licking against his own. His head knocks back against the bookcase again and he loves the weight on his wrists where Harry’s restraining him. All of his thoughts are cloudy and he doesn’t remember ever wanting anything else than release, his cock nearly throbbing.

Harry pulls back from the kiss, pressing their lips together a few more times before panting, “You’re so fucking willing for me, Louis, shit. I just want to see you come, want to see your face when you come.”

“Harry,” Louis whines, trying to push their hips together again for some friction. “Please.”

Suddenly the pressure on his wrists is gone and Harry’s hands are fumbling with the buttons on Louis’ trousers. “Please, tell me to stop,” Harry murmurs desperately against Louis’ lips, his fingers loosening the buttons one by one, “If there’s any part of you that doesn’t want this then tell me to stop, just do it love, do it.”

Louis shakes his head fervently, pushing his hips forward for Harry to have better access. “No, no never. Please, just do something Harry, I need you.”

A growl leaves Harry’s lips and he yanks down Louis’ trousers and underpants in one go, sinking to his knees.

Louis’ eyes widen in confusion but a shaky moan leaves his lips when he sees Harry looking at his cock with a fire blazed look in his eyes. “Please,” he pleads again, not even ashamed of how needy he sounds and not even knowing what he's asking for.

“Promise you’ll be quiet, little one?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows. He suddenly looks so composed again and it makes Louis nod desperately.

He doesn’t know why exactly Harry’s telling him now that he has to be quiet – but then the older man leans in and wraps his lips around the head of his cock. Louis brings a hand up to his mouth and bites down on his knuckles, muffling the loud moan leaving his lips.

It feels like his whole world is imploding and imploding until all that’s left is his vision of Harry kneeling in front of him, his dimples on full show and Louis’ cock disappearing into his mouth. Everything else fades away in a hazy blur and Louis struggles to keep his eyes open. “Fuck, Harry – so good, please don’t stop.”

Harry pulls back slightly, his tongue curling around the head of his cock. Louis feels precome dribbling out of him and Harry licks it up and takes his cock deeper again. He stares up at Louis’ with dark green eyes and winks teasingly when he sees the wrecked state of the boy. Louis moans at that, feels completely at Harry’s mercy even though he isn’t the one on his knees.

His fingers are curling around one of the shelves of the bookcase and he’s sure there will be fingernail-shaped dents in the wood by now. His calves are straining and Harry has his hands on his hips, squeezing so hard and Louis loves it, he loves everything Harry’s giving him right now. “Please, Haz, it’s so good, so good,” he mumbles, chest heaving up and down.

Harry starts humming around his cock and Louis feels like crying. If being with Harry means getting this on a regular basis, he wants to marry him right now. His breathing leaves his lips in small, uneven puffs. Harry’s curls tickle against his bare thighs, his thumbs rubbing softly against the sensitive skin and tears of bliss are forming in the corners of Louis’ eyes.

“Shit, I – I’m going to come. Harry, fuck,” he moans, feeling his balls constrict and the muscles in his stomach tighten. There’s a warm shiver down his spine, an approving groan from Harry until all that Louis can hear is his own heartbeat hammering in his ears.

Harry squeezes his thighs and one hand snakes up the inside, pushing a finger between his cheeks. Louis cries out when Harry’s rubs the pad of his finger over his entrance.

His vision whites out as he comes, Harry humming appreciatively and swallowing his come down. Louis feels like he has died and gone to heaven, shaky whimpers leaving his throat.

When Harry pulls back, there is a satisfied smile on his face and he licks his lips. “You taste wonderful, love.”

Louis nearly moans at the hoarse sound of Harry’s voice and he desperately pulls on the lapels of the older man’s jacket, making him stand up. Harry chuckles and presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead, pulling up the boy’s pants again and tucking him in properly.

“That was amazing,” Louis whispers against Harry’s lips, surging up to deepen the kiss immediately. He tastes himself on Harry’s tongue and that is almost enough to get him hard again.

“Can I,” he whispers between kisses, “Can I pull you off, please? Can I make you come?”

Harry nods, kissing him deeper. “If you want to, love. Only if you want to.”

Louis opens the buttons on Harry’s trousers, pushing them down the man’s slender hips. “I want to, so bad,” he whines, “But – help me? Tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

Harry cups Louis’ cheek and presses another kiss against his forehead, “You can’t do anything wrong, I’ll help you.”

Louis nods, finding some courage in Harry’s words and he circles Harry’s hard cock with his hand. He feels the thickness and the weight in his palm and he sighs in pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so big,” he whispers, a wanton edge to his voice.

He squeezes a bit underneath the head of Harry’s cock, celebrating in the shaky moan which leaves Harry’s lips. He tries it again, twists his wrist a bit and this time Harry catches his lips with his own.

“You’re doing great,” Harry murmurs, “Love seeing your little, delicate fingers around my cock.”

Louis whimpers, his cheeks flushing with the praise. His thoughts are going into overdrive, and he’s back at the earlier thought of tasting one scoop and wanting to eat the whole jar. He thumbs at the slit, Harry groaning in surprise and pleasure, and he spreads the precome down Harry’s cock.

His strokes are slick and he tries twisting his wrist just right when he slides upwards and it only takes a few minutes before Harry’s whispering against his lips, “Fuck, love, I’m gonna come. Do that again.”

Louis obeys and flicks his thumb over the head again, wiping the precome away. Suddenly Harry’s body tenses up against his own, coming hard between his fingers and moaning in the crook of Louis’ neck.

Louis’ eyes are wide and he’s biting down on his lower lip, watching Harry’s face as he comes. He’s never seen anything more gorgeous. He welcomes the older man’s weight when Harry leans against him for support. While Harry is panting, Louis tucks him back in and closes his trousers again.

“Shit, I can hardly believe you haven’t done that before, little one,” Harry whispers, his breathing still quick and shallow. He presses quick, featherlight kisses against Louis’ lips and also one on his nose, which Louis blushes at. Harry's fingers quickly fumble for a handkerchief in his pocket and he uses it to clean Louis’ hand.

“Did you like it, love?” he asks, folding the handkerchief and putting it back. He curls his arms around Louis’ slim waist.

Louis nods, stands up on his tiptoes to wind his arm around Harry’s neck. He brings the older man down for a kiss and opens his mouth willingly to deepen it.

“I absolutely loved it,” he whispers eventually. “We should do that again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Looks like Harry has blown Louis' sexdrive right open. (no pun intended lol)
> 
> Feedback would be lovely! And Merry Christmas to all of you :)


	16. QUICK QUESTION!

Hi everyone!

Sorry I haven't been updating! I am having some trouble with the amount of time I have and the plot line. 

There have been questions on Tumblr and in the comment section whether this story would have **mpreg or not**. Personally, I think I can work either way - but I think I have a good idea for a mpreg story line. 

Just let me know what you think, and if the majority wants mpreg - then you shall have mpreg. If not, no mpreg. It's all the same to me! :)

xo

NOTE: It will only be mentions of mpreg - not the actual thing!


	17. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis finds out a part of himself that he never thought possible, and has trouble dealing with it. Harry returns from a long stay at Pemberley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- First of all, I am an asshole. Sorry for not updating for so long.  
> \- Second of all, 35% of you are going to hate me. I've decided to go down the mpreg lane, mainly because the majority of the reactions were pro-mpreg and because it fits very well with the story. Some of you said it wouldn't, but it actually does because it solves a lot of plotholes.  
> \- Also, the mpreg will only be mentioned. The actual thing will not happen in this fic. I might turn it into a series and make a one-shot about it if people ask for it, but it will not happen in Moves and Countermoves.  
> \- And, another important thing, Harry and Louis might be super attracted to each other and Louis might be a horny teenager - but they will not have sex before the wedding. The fact that they got each other off in a library is already a big enough scandal.
> 
> So, I guess I hope the majority of you will like this story line :) If you're really against mpreg, I suggest you don't continue reading this fic, because if you end up hating it, it will hurt you and me as well.
> 
> And, another warning: a lot of Louis feels in this one. I made my beautiful [beta](http://www.smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) cry - lo siento mucho.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Three weeks later_

Louis fiddles with the handle on his bedroom window, tugging it loose. He curls his fingers underneath the edge and pulls the window up. The fresh spring air waves into the room, making the curtains flutter. The warm light of the sun warms up his hands, still placed on the windowsill. He waves at his father who is sitting on the bench underneath the big willow in their garden.

“Good morning!”

His father smiles and waves back, “Good morning, son!”

Louis turns away from the window. His side of the bed is still unmade, the sheets rumpled and bunched up. Zayn’s side is meticulously neat and Louis automatically rolls his eyes as he starts to fluff up his own pillow. The beige silk of Harry’s scarf is folded perfectly, a few wrinkles in the fabric because of the pillow usually laying on top of it. Louis leaves his pillow for what it is, dropping it onto the bed and he picks up the scarf. The fabric is soft between his fingers. He brings it up to his nose and inhales deeply, wishing the scarf was big enough so he could wrap himself up in it, surrounded by Harry’s scent.

The older man had left for Pemberley two weeks ago. There had been an accident with redecorating the ball room, and Harry was determined to make sure the workmen were fine. Louis thinks it is a nice gesture of him to care so much about his servants. But on the other hand, he feels kind of lonely. His mother is mostly busying herself with his sisters while the regiment is still in town, and his father spends his days reading and playing chess with Mr. Hill. And Zayn—

Louis flops onto the bed and lies down on his back. He bunches up the scarf in his hands, frowning.

Zayn is ignoring him. It shouldn’t be too big of a surprise, Louis thinks, because Zayn had figured it out the minute he and Harry returned to the drawing room. Louis hadn’t looked in the mirror, but Harry looked properly fucked and he figured he didn’t look much better. Zayn had been so angry at him during the carriage ride home. He had told him how irresponsible he acted, and how he would be publically humiliated if it ever got out. Louis, not being able to handle such direct criticism, had snapped as well and he had yelled at Zayn. He had accused his brother of how much this outburst was caused by the pent-up anger he felt towards Liam, and not so much by Louis’ own reckless actions. The corners of Zayn’s mouth had fallen and a defeated and hurt look had appeared in his eyes – causing Louis to feel like shit for the rest of the day.

They had apologised to each other a few days later and they are talking again. Louis thinks there just isn’t a lot to talk about these days.

He startles when the door of the bedroom opens, Zayn walking in with loud steps. He’s wearing his hunting boots and he’s dashed out in the whole gear. He’s holding an envelope between his gloved fingers. “This was on the doorstep,” he says, dropping the envelope in Louis’ lap.

Louis nods, looking tentatively at his brother. “You’ve been hunting?” he asks, taking in Zayn’s clothing again. It had been a while since his brother had worn the outfit, Louis was surprised it still fit.

Zayn hums. “Going to. Niall was bored so he asked me if I wanted to do something today.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “And you’re going _hunting_? I remember quite vividly how you couldn’t stop complaining about the useless pain hunting inflicts on animals. You even started whistling every time dad spotted a deer to scare it off.”

Zayn’s eyebrows frown in clear frustration. “So? I feel like killing something today,” he nods to the letter in Louis’ lap, “Go read your letter, it’s from Styles.”

Louis look down, picking up the letter and when he looks up again, Zayn’s already left the room. The door is still open.

He lets out a sigh and opens the dark red seal on the letter, tearing it carefully. The rumpled sheets are soft against his back as he flops back down again and opens the letter.

 

_Dear Louis,_

_I apologise for not writing sooner. The past two weeks at Pemberley were quite hectic, but the incident has been taken care of._

_This letter should arrive to you on Monday, which will also be the day when I return to Hertfordshire. I would like to take you out to the new shop in Meryton. The shop is located on the town square, therefore I do not think a chaperone will be necessary. If your parents think otherwise, then I will respect that._

_I hope to see you Monday afternoon. Please wear your grey pair of trousers._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Sir Harry Edward Styles_

A smile breaks through on Louis’ lips, the tense conversation with Zayn long forgotten. He reads the letter again and then carefully folds it. The bed squeaks when he stands up and he walks out of the room, knocking on the door of his parents’ bedroom.

“Louis, darling,” his mother opens the door, tying the laces of her bonnet underneath her chin. “What’s the matter? I was just about to head into town with Lydia.”

Louis leans onto the doorpost and lifts up his hand, waving the letter. “I got a letter from Harry. He’s returning today and he wants me to dress up and go to a shop opening in Meryton. Can I go?”

Mrs. Tomlinson’s fingers jumble over the knot and she drops her hands to her sides. “He sent you a letter?”

Louis nods and waves it in front of her face impatiently, “Yes, he did. So, can I go – because I really need to change and my hair is a proper mess this morning and—what’s wrong?”

He stops talking when he sees his mother’s slightly pensive and confused look.

“N-Nothing, love,” Mrs Tomlinson says, the frown above her eyes not going away. “I’m just surprised Sir Styles sent you a letter after two weeks of not hearing a single thing.”

“He has been busy, mother. There is still an estate he has to run, and it was an emergency. Why are you so surprised?”

“Oh, Lou,” she sighs, “Mostly when men like Sir Styles break contact for longer than a few days, it usually means that—” Her words trail off and she has an uncertain twitch around her mouth.

“It means what?” Louis asks slowly, confusion creeping into his thoughts.

“It usually means they want to call of the courtship. I, well, me and your father thought Sir Styles was breaking it off without giving you the humiliation. We were actually quite relieved that it went this way.”

Louis frowns, shaking his head. “Wh—Huh? What gave you the impression that he doesn’t want to court me anymore? He has told you both multiple times that he is serious about this,” Louis voices hitches, “He has also told me. How can you think that he doesn’t want me anymore?”

“Louis, sweetheart,” Mrs Tomlinson tries, her voice soft and soothing.

“No,” Louis shakes his arm away when his mother reaches out. “I don’t understand, why would you and father be relieved if Harry had called things off? Do you not want me to be with him? I thought you approved?” He hears the shrill edge of emotion in his voice.

“Louis,” Mrs Tomlinson says, “Calm down, and come into the room. There are some things we have to talk about, and I thought this day wouldn’t come for at least another year.”

Louis frowns, uncertainty and confusion nestling low into his stomach. “Mother, you’re making me worried.” He lets his mother take his hands and she leads them into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“Go sit in the chair by the fire, love,” she gestures, her mouth still turned downwards in an apprehensive manner.

Louis feels his fingertips getting cold and he curls them into his palms. He sinks down in one of the two chairs by the fire, memories of his childhood flooding back into his thoughts. He can still picture himself sitting on a pillow on the floor, his temple resting against his mother’s legs while he played with a wooden toy his father made him. Those careless days seem further away than ever and he nervously taps his foot on the wooden floor.

His mother rings the bell for tea and then moves over to the fireplace. Her skirts rustle when she sits down in the chair opposite of him.

“Do you remember your father’s brother, Henry?”

Louis frowns but then he nods. “Yes, I remember him.” Uncle Henry is his father’s youngest brother. He left England a few years ago and they still get his letters sometimes, each letter comes from a different city in Europe. Louis used to dream that uncle Henry would take him along on his travels, especially after he had a fight with Zayn or one of his sisters. The last time he heard of his uncle was when they received a post card from Barcelona.

Mrs Tomlinson clears her throat. “Before you were born, Henry was engaged for six months.”

“Engaged? To whom?” Louis asks. He doesn’t know this about his uncle. In his memories, uncle Henry has always been happily alone without a care in the world.

“I don’t remember the name,” his mother says, “But I do know that he was a Lord, and he had a very powerful reputation in the northern parts of the country. Henry was completely gone for him. Every time we invited him over for dinner, he talked about his fiancé. Sometimes it even got to the point where your father had to intervene, just to make sure Henry was still breathing in between his sentences.”

Louis cracks a small smile, remembering that part about his uncle’s character. Whenever he was enthusiastic about something he kept talking about it until his cheeks were red with vigour.

“What happened?” he asks. “With their engagement?”

His mother visibly swallows and looks relieved when there is a knock on the door. “Tea ma’am?”

“Yes, Hill,” she says, “Come in.”

If Hill seems surprised at the serious and glum look on both their faces, she doesn’t let it show. She hands Louis his tea and then turns to Mrs Tomlinson, picking up the other cup on the tray and giving it to her.

When she closes the door behind her, Louis asks again, “What happened to them?”

Mrs Tomlinson’s fingers clench a little tighter around her cup. “Henry’s fiancé broke the engagement after Henry told him something about himself.”

“What, like a secret?”

“Well, it wasn’t so much a secret. It was something about him, something that isn’t common for men. It’s accepted by society but some people cannot handle it as well as others. His fiancé was one of those people who couldn’t handle it.”

“For the love of God, what is it? And what does this have to do with me and Harry?”

“Louis,” his mother says, her voice level. “Your uncle Henry was able to get pregnant and have children.”

Louis chokes on his tea, the hot liquid searing in his throat. “What?” He splutters, coughing loudly.

Mrs Tomlinson takes his cup from his hands and sets it down on the small wooden table. “It’s something that is part of your father’s family. Uncle James can get pregnant, too. They have taught you about this at school, yes, Louis? I hope this isn’t the first time you’re hearing about this phenomenon, otherwise I need to pay a visit to you headmast—”

“I know that it exists, mother!” Louis blurts out, his cheeks red from his coughing. “One of my male teachers was even able to get children, we were told all about it! B-But, uncle James is married to aunt Laura, and w-why didn’t anyone ever tell me before?”

“Being able to get pregnant has nothing to do with whether you’re attracted to men or women Louis,  it’s the way your body is wired in some way. And your father and I were planning to tell you once you would turn eighteen. We weren’t prepared for you to fall in love with Sir Styles!”

“Well, I am sorry I didn’t give you a notice beforehand, so terribly sorry for the inconvenience! You know, you could’ve told me this when I turned eleven and started to realise the magic of a penis!” Louis shouts, perching his elbow on the armrest and dropping his head in his hand. “Fuck…”

“Louis,” Mrs Tomlinson says sternly, “I know this is something you didn’t know about our family, and I know it’s a lot to take in, but I will not tolerate you using that language in my house.”

Louis groans, “Well, can you blame me? I’m suddenly hearing that two uncles of mine can get children. It may not be so special, but it does change the view I have of them.”

“Then you might want to alter the view you have of yourself and your brother as well, love,” Mrs Tomlinson says. Her voice is calm and she reaches over to take Louis’ hand. “There is a very large chance you and Zayn are able to conceive as well.”

“No,” Louis breathes, eyes widening, “No, no, you cannot be serious, mother. I have never felt different, I have never felt that I wanted kids or that I’m able to have them! And I’m pretty sure Zayn hasn’t either.”

“You’re born with it, Louis, it doesn’t suddenly pop open inside of you. You wouldn’t tell the difference because nothing ever changed for you. But there are some traits that come with it. One of them being that you develop your libido at a much younger age than other boys do.”

“What’s the normal age?” Louis frowns.

“Around thirteen, fourteen. And you just said, very crudely might I add, that you’re, well,” Mrs Tomlinson clears her throat, “That it started at eleven. The same thing goes for Zayn, you two are quite similar. It made your father and I think that you two could be like your father’s brothers are.”

“This is mad,” Louis breathes, shaking his head and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And let me guess, uncle Henry’s fiancé was creeped out by it and decided to break it off?”

His mother purses her lips but nods solemnly. “Yes, and your uncle never fully recovered from his heartbreak. You’ll find that often the aristocrats of this country have, well, objections towards men who can get pregnant. They can be very traditional in their beliefs. They perceive men who can get pregnant as a lower class of man, and therefore—”

“And therefore you were trying to get me and Zayn married as soon as possible. It’s about the estate isn’t it? Me and Zayn, we can’t inherit?”

Her mother casts her eyes downward. “You could always choose not to tell anyone, and inherit anyway. But there have been some cases that men who lied about their anatomy later wanted to get children, and then the secret would come out. There will be serious consequences if you lie, Louis. It’s illegal and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you lie.”

“I just…” Louis inhales and exhales deeply, “I just can’t believe it. Mother, this is just too much, too soon.”

“Your father and I didn’t want to burden you with this before you would turn eighteen, love,” his mother says, a weird tone of genuine compassion seeping in her words. “But things are moving pretty fast between you and Harry, and we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Harry,” Louis croaks out, his eyes widening, “Oh no. What am I going to tell him, mother? What if he is like uncle Henry’s fiancé?” His fingers are shaking when he picks up his cup of tea. He takes a small sip, the liquid is nearly cold and the taste is horrible. Louis pulls a face and puts it back down.

“That is either a risk you’ll have to take, or you have to break things off. You cannot keep this from him Louis, that’s not an option.”

“Why not?” He isn’t even ashamed of the whiny tone in his voice.

“Louis William Tomlinson,” his mother says, “You cannot get married with him if he doesn’t know. The chance is just too big. If it turns out he never wanted kids and especially not with a man, and you end up pregnant anyway, then he’ll probably never forgive you.”

“But what if I’m not able to get pregnant?” Louis presses, desperately clutching his fingers together. “What if I tell him, he’ll abandon me, and it turns out years later that I was never able to conceive a child anyway? I’ll lose the love of my life if that’s the case!”

“If you’re convinced he’s the love of your life,” his mother says calmly, “then I think this is a risk you should be willing to take. Aunt Laura accepted it very easily when James told her, maybe Harry isn’t like Henry’s fiancé.”

“But if he is,” Louis mutters darkly, “Then I’ll never forgive you and father for telling me. Ever.”

“Do not put this on me or your father, Louis. This is about you, about your body and it’s a responsibility you’ll have to bear. Your father and I had no choice in this whatsoever.”

“It’s just… It’s not fair,” Louis drops his head in his hands, his voice thick with emotion. “As soon as I tell Harry, he’ll call it off. He’s the master of the Pemberley estate, he’s not going to marry a, a freak like me.” His voice cracks and tears are welling up in his eyes.

“You’re not a freak, love,” his mother stands up and reaches out her hands. Louis takes them and lets himself be pulled up into a hug. His mother continues, “Just because it’s unusual, doesn’t mean that you’re weird. It makes you different, but trust me, being different is probably the best thing you can be in this world. You’ve always been a special boy, Louis, and you’ll find someone who cherishes that – who cherishes you for who you are. And it might be Harry, but it might be someone else. Those are the risks that make life worth it, I promise you.”

“But I am less,” Louis croaks out, a tear sliding down his cheekbone. “It’s like I’m suddenly worth half a person, like, like I don’t matter anymore because I’m _this_.”

He buries his head in the crook of his mother’s neck, shoulders shaking while he sobs. His thoughts are cloudy like the mist in the early mornings, and all he feels is a gut-wrenching clench in his stomach as he imagines Harry’s disgusted and repulsed look when he’ll tell him.

The thought makes his knees buckle and his fingers are clenching in the fabric of his mother’s dress. The sounds of his crying are muffled, his mother slowly tracing her fingers through his hair.

“Sshh,” she soothes. “Louis, try to breathe slowly. It’s a lot to take in right now, I know. But you’ll always be my sweet boy and you need to learn how to love yourself like this, and that starts by realising that this doesn’t make you less of a man. It doesn’t.” Her voice is shaking with emotion, but she rubs Louis’ neck comfortingly with a steady hand.

Louis lifts his head and a few more tears drip down from the corners of his eyes when his mother presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Now,” she says softly, tracing her fingers through his hair. “Don’t cry, love. There’ll be plenty enough to cry about in the future, save your tears for something sad. Go, put on those grey trousers and remember to keep breathing, and hold your head up high. Harry will be here soon.”

Those words are enough to make the corners of Louis’ mouth wobble again, but he steels himself, clenching his jaw. He nods shortly to his mother and moves out of her embrace.

“Remember, Louis,” his mother says, before he steps out of the room, “In the future, people will laugh at you for being different. But all you have to do is laugh at them, because they’re all the same.”

Louis presses his lips together and gives his mother a small smile, closing the door behind him. He lets his hands trail along the wall as he walks towards the room, still feeling slightly dizzy. His tears are blurring his sight and he rubs at his eyes, walking into his bedroom.

It is like the silence has stretched itself through his body, through the room, but also outside is suddenly not a sound to be heard. Not the scrunching sound of the gravel underneath his sisters’ feet, nor the chirping from the bird nests in the trees. It is the silence that causes his heart to slow down, the panic fading away like waves rolling onto the shore. His fingers are still shaking when he picks up his pillow from the foot of the bed, and he lies it back down next to Zayn’s.

He needs to talk to his brother soon, needs to ask him what he knows and for how long he has known, and why he never bothered to tell him a thing. Louis licks his lips, exhaling loudly to prevent himself from getting frustrated by the fact that Zayn kept this secret from him. He knows his brother probably has his reasons, and for now, he keeps it at that. It’s enough.

From the corner of his eye he spots the mirror, standing upright against the far wall of the bedroom. Swallowing deeply, Louis walks over, studying his reflection closely. His eyes are red-rimmed and his lips are bitten raw. There are pink blotches on his cheeks and his hair is a mess. He ignores it.

He lets his fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to reveal his flat stomach. He feels a twitch behind his right eye. He looks at his body in the mirror, the pale skin which hasn’t seen much sunlight yet, the slight dent of his waist and the curve of his hips. He sucks in his stomach, a small frown forming above his eyes and he exhales, his tummy pressing against the waistband of his trousers again. He sighs and drops his shirt, shaking his head.

Harry can arrive any moment now and he hasn’t even changed.

He puts on different clothes without looking back in the mirror again.

-

Louis is standing in the hall, fixing his hair and buttoning the last button of his coat, when there is a knock on the door. Instead of taking the few steps and opening the door himself, he waits until Hill appears. It delays the sight of Harry for at least a few seconds and Louis will take it.

He feels conflicted, both wanting to run away from the man as hard as he can to avoid getting hurt, but also wanting to jump in his arms and trusting that Harry will protect him from everything he will have to endure in the future.

The click of the front door opening startles him and he turns around when he hears the footsteps coming closer.

When Harry walks around the corner of the hallway, a warm feeling spreads in Louis’ chest.

“There you are.” The smile on Harry’s face is bright enough to compete with the sun. “You look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

Despite the tension and the whirlwind of emotions curling in his stomach, Louis cracks a small smile. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Sir Styles,” he reprimands, his smile widening, mirroring Harry’s.

“I’ll take my chances,” Harry smiles, stepping closer to Louis and holding his arms open.

Louis automatically steps into the embrace, feeling instantly calmer now that the older man is with him again. It feels like Harry is his anchor, bringing him back to the safety and the calm stillness after all that happened that morning. Louis rests his temple against Harry’s chest, the steady thump-thump of his heart reaching his ears.

“Are you alright, little one?” Harry whispers, just slightly surprised by the way Louis is clenching his arms around his waist, squeezing hard.

“No,” Louis murmurs automatically, inhaling Harry’s scent. “But I’m better now that you’re here,” he admits softly.

Louis feels Harry’s hand on the nape of his neck, the older man urging him to look up at him and meet his eyes. He does, and he swallows when he sees the green in Harry’s eyes, looking a bit worried.

“Did something happen?” Harry asks, winding a lock of Louis’ hair around his index-fingers.

Louis swallows, “No.” He takes hold of Harry’s other hand. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

He feels guilty for lying to Harry but his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his mother coming down the stairs.

“Sir Harry Styles,” she greets once she is downstairs. She bows politely before Harry, “Back in Hertfordshire?”

“For a little while, ma’am,” Harry nods, “I hope you and your family have been well?”

“Yes, thank you. For the most part, we’ve all been well,” she smiles. Louis notices how her eyes flick towards him for a second and he studies the small tiles on the floor, the colour faded from the stone.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” Harry says, “I hope you do not mind me taking Louis to town this afternoon?”

“Not at all,” Mrs Tomlinson smiles, “Louis could use some fresh air and I am sure he has a lot of things to tell you.”

“Now you’ve made me curious, ma’am,” Harry smiles, charming as ever.

Louis manages to fake a smile as well and he kisses his mother on the cheek. “I’ll probably be back soon,” he tells her, an edge of nervousness creeping into his voice.

“Take your time, love. You two have to catch up on some things,” she gives Louis a pointed look.

“Maybe,” Louis mumbles curtly, taking Harry’s hand and walking through the hallway towards the front door.

Harry closes the door behind them and leads Louis down the steps with a hand on the small of his back. “The weather is good enough to walk, but I think the carriage will be a bit more comfortable. And you do look a little tired, my love,” he says, cupping Louis’ cheek.

“Slept pretty badly last night,” Louis lies, letting Harry guide him into the carriage. He sinks into the velvet seat and fixes his eyes on the window, looking outside.

Harry sits across from him, their ankles resting against each other. “I’m sorry to hear that, anything the matter?” he asks, reaching over to rub Louis’ knee.

“Not really, just Zayn snoring and waking me up with his flailing limbs,” Louis chuckles sheepishly.

Harry grins, “I can imagine falling asleep with that next to you is indeed quite difficult.”

“Yes,” Louis nods, and, desperate to change the subject, he asks, “So, how was Pemberley? Still as prestigious as everyone keeps telling me it is?”

Harry laughs, “Yes, it is. Although, without you there, I doubt I have ever seen it in its most beautiful state.”

Louis blushes and he spontaneously leans forward, pressing his lips to Harry’s, who meets him halfway. “I really missed you,” he admits.

“I know you did,” Harry whispers, looking at him like he understands every word that comes out of Louis’ mouth. “I’ve missed you a lot as well, missed your smile.”

Louis leans into Harry’s hand, splayed over his cheek and rubbing the skin behind his ear. He presses a small kiss to the inside of Harry’s wrist.

-

The town square is filled with people. Now that the weather is more pleasant and the days are getting longer, everyone is back to meeting up in the large street.

While Louis climbs out of the carriage, he spots Zayn and Niall coming out of the pub. They both have a dead rabbit slung over their shoulders and Zayn is in the middle of telling Niall something funny, because the blonde’s laughter can be heard loud and clear.

“Do you want to go and say hello?” Harry asks, siding next to Louis. He holds his arm out for him.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Louis mumbles, hooking his arm through Harry’s. He lets the older man guide him towards the shops. “Zayn and I aren’t on the best of terms lately.”

“Really?” Harry asks, sounding genuinely surprised. “How come? You are like two peas in a pod. Did you have a falling out?”

“It was actually a few weeks ago,” Louis says, cheeks heating up. “After we left Netherfield Park when you and I, uh, you know. In the library.”

A knowing smirk forms on Harry’s lips, clearly enjoying the memory. But then he slightly frowns and asks, “Wait. Zayn knows?”

Louis bites his lower lip and nods. “He sort of saw it on both of our faces, I guess,” he admits. “And during the ride back to Longbourn he kept yelling at me how irresponsible I am and how this will be the first thing to ruin me.” _Funny,_ Louis thinks bitterly, _after this morning there is a new first thing to ruin me_.

Harry points in the direction of the shop, and while they walk towards it, he says, “I’m sorry, Lou. I guess I should go and talk to your brother to sort it out. After all, I am the adult and I should’ve known better.” He looks so serious that Louis wants to shake him by the shoulders to get that smile back on his face. It’s the only thing that is keeping him going at the moment.

“No, no,” he interrupts, “Don’t worry about it. You shouldn’t have known better because I don’t regret a single thing. I know I should, but I don’t.”

“You don’t?” Harry smiles, winding his arm around Louis’ waist and pulling him closer to his side.

“How could I?” Louis whispers, his voice going hoarse. Harry is looking at him like he’s holding the world in the palm of his hand and Louis doesn’t know whether to run or to press closer to him.

“Louis,” Harry stops walking and holds him closer. “I think I’m in—”

“Sir Harry Styles!” A door of a shop opens, “A man of your word I see!”

Louis notices the way Harry seems to need a second to pull himself together, but then the curly-haired man turns towards the shop and its owner.

“Laurent, pleasure to be here,” Harry grins, clapping the shop owner on his shoulder, apparently knowing him very well. “This is Louis Tomlinson.”

“Ah,” the shop owner, Laurent, says knowingly, “The boy who has bewitched the cold heart of the Styles heir. Lovely,” he grins, looking at Louis.

Louis feels intimidated by the man’s confident smirk but curtsies politely for him. “It’s very nice to meet you, Sir,” he says, locking his hands behind his back. He is relieved when Harry steps back and tucks him against his side again, feeling safer whenever the other man is closer.

“How is the first day going, Laurent?” Harry asks.

“Well, quite slow, but I didn’t become a wallpaper designer to have customers over every hour—I am afraid I will combust if that were the case,” he laughs loudly at his own joke. “Now, come inside and I’ll see what I can do to help you, Styles.”

Louis follows Harry inside, wondering what exactly the purpose is of this visit. He has never met any wallpaper designers before. After all, his parents do not have enough money to hire them and their walls are all painted the same colour. But Harry did mention the renovations going on at Pemberley, and he does have the money to pay for these kind of designers.

The shop still smells new, the floor is shiny and there aren’t any visible scratches in the wood. Long papers with designs sketched on them are covering the walls and Louis trails away from Harry’s side, staring at the designs with his mouth wide-open. There are multiple designs with trees on them, and birds, but also horses and the sea, boats and sunsets. “This is beautiful,” he whispers.

“Which one, love?” Harry asks, coming to stand next to them.

“Well, all of them,” Louis smiles, forgetting all of his troubles for a few minutes while he walks along the walls, studying the designs, with the commentary of Laurent fading in the background.

While Harry talks measurements and other appointments with Laurent, Louis keeps staring at one design in particular. This design has already been coloured in and it’s laying spread out to dry on a table. It has a mint green background with all kinds of birds drawn on it, sitting on branches. Their wings are coloured in more shades of brown than Louis has ever seen before and they are so detailed that they almost look real. He wants to reach out his finger and trail it along one of the birds but he stops himself, not wanting to smudge the paint and ruin it.

“Ah, see something you like?” Laurent comes scurrying over, clapping his hands together and entwining his fingers. “I finished this one just this morning, the paint takes so long to dry. And this is only one row, so can you imagine the time it will take to draw a wall’s length of this design?”

“It’s really, really beautiful,” Louis mumbles, feeling Harry’s presence close-by.

“Let me go to the back for a second,” Laurent says, “I think I still have the sketch laying around somewhere.” He walks away and disappears behind a curtain.

“What do you think?” Louis asks, looking back at Harry and then pointing at the design. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“I think it looks very beautiful, little one,” Harry nods, pressing a kiss to Louis’ temple. “You know, there is a reason why I brought you along with me today, to this shop.”

“Really?” Louis asks, turning towards Harry. “What’s the reason?”

Harry clears his throat. “Well, while I was at Pemberley the past few weeks, I got a good look at all the renovations. But, the thing is, I was missing something.”

“Missing something?” Louis asks.

“I was missing you, physically, because you weren’t there with me,” Harry admits. “But I also missed you in the house, it didn’t feel like a home anymore to me. And at first, I thought it was because of the months I spent at Netherfield Park, but then I realised that I was missing you in my home. Which is strange, because you’ve never been to Pemberley before – but I want you to. I want,” Harry’s voice hitches, “I want you with me at Pemberley. I want to see your touch in the furniture, the wallpaper, the paintings, I… I want you with me, Louis, by my side. I think, in these past few months that we’ve been together, you have become my home.”

Louis feels his eyes tearing up for the second time that day, and right now, there is nothing he’d rather do than to jump in Harry’s arms and to tell him _yes, yes I want to be by your side, I want to decorate your stupidly large house with you, I want to be your home because you are mine,_ but he can’t. He damns his mother for telling him this morning, wishes he could’ve gone through this moment without knowing this new part about himself. He can’t ignore it, it’s like there is a door closed and locked inside of him, preventing him from jumping into Harry’s arms and saying those three words.

Yesterday, this moment would have been perfect, but right now –

Right now, he runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't bite, I feel bad enough for this chapter already. 
> 
> If you do want to bite, here is my [tumblr](http://www.hazza-andtommo.tumblr.com). :)


	18. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis has run off after Harry professed his love for him. He goes to Zayn to talk, even though they are still not on speaking terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait! I was working on [this one-shot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3409193).

Louis slams the door behind him, wincing a bit when it closes harshly. He hears Harry calling his name from inside the shop but he shakes his head and ignores it, not feeling ready to face Harry at the moment.

The town square is still busy with people and Louis winds his way through the people, ready to go home and to bury himself in his bed. His heart is hammering in his throat and he is willing his mind not to think about Harry’s romantic confession just then. He feels warm inside but he doesn’t know whether that was caused by Harry’s words or the apprehension he feels about himself.

He stops dead in his tracks for a second when he spots Zayn and Niall at a stand a few meters away.

“Zayn!” he calls out, making a beeline for his brother. He ignores all the looks people around him are giving him for shouting so loudly in the town square.

Zayn looks up to see Louis making his way towards him, a determined look in his eyes. He looks over Louis’ shoulder but he cannot spot Harry.

“What do you want?” Zayn asks once Louis has reached him. “Did you lose Harry?” His tone has certain venom in it, even though he knows his anger towards his younger brother is petty now.

“You and I,” Louis says, nervously trading his hand through his hair. “We need to talk about something, and I need to go home.”

“Yes, well,” Zayn says, turning towards Niall, “Niall and I are sort of in the middle of something here Louis, so no, I am not going home with you. Do you think you can handle not getting what you want for once?”

Louis frowns. “Let it go, for God’s sake. It was cute the first couple of days but now I am sick of it. Come with me or I am going to physically drag you along with me, and I don’t think you want everyone here to see that,” he says, raising his eyebrows defiantly.

Niall’s eyes flick between Zayn and Louis and he chews slowly on a chestnut. “It's okay, Zayn, I had to go pick up some eggs and vegetables anyway. You can go with Louis, it seems like it’s urgent.”

“It is,” Louis nods.

Zayn sighs, throwing his hands up in the air in a dramatic motion. “Fine, let’s go home. But you better explain to me what you’ve done to Harry and where you left his body because he never lets you out of his sight – so he’s either dead or very unconscious.”

“Ha-ha, hilarious,” Louis sneers, walking away.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, their feet making soft noises on the gravel ground. Louis stuffs his hands in his pockets and glances sideways at Zayn occasionally, his brother simply looking at the blue sky and the tiny apples in the trees.

“So,” Louis clears his throat, “When were you planning to tell me?”

Zayn drags his gaze away from the trees and fixes it on Louis, a small crease above his brow. “Tell you what?”

Louis scoffs, taking in his brother’s oblivious look. “I can’t believe it. You don’t know what I am talking about?”

“Of course I bloody don’t,” Zayn says, “You only asked when I was going to tell you something. That does not really narrow it down.”

“Fine, you want me to narrow it down for you?” Louis asks, passing a bush and snapping a few branches with his fingers. “How about I narrow it down to… The men in our family, how about that?”

“You may want to cut the sarcasm, little brother.”

“And you may want to cut the dumb bullshit but I am starting to wonder if that is impossible for you.”

“Just tell me what you want to talk about, for heaven’s sake,” Zayn sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t have time for your passive aggressive hints and death stares.”

“Fine,” Louis says, grabbing a hold of Zayn’s wrist and stopping him. He looks his brother in the eyes when he asks, “When were you planning to tell me we both are probably able to have children?”

Zayn visibly pales a bit and then sighs, closing his eyes. “Mum told you,” he just mumbles, his fingers rubbing his temple.

“Yes, she did,” Louis says, the angry tension in his muscles flowing away. “She told me this morning.”

“And now you are worried about your courtship with one Harry Styles, aren’t you?” Zayn asks while they start walking again.

Louis looks at the noses of his shoes and shrugs. “I kind of am,” he says. “A lot,” he adds with a shaky smile.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, that man is as far gone for you as our father is for chess. You could probably say you have a gnome for a cock and Harry would still love it.”

“Zayn!” Louis exclaims, eyes widening. “We’re outside for God’s sake, hold your tongue.”

“I’m just saying, Louis.”

“Yes, well,” Louis inhales sharply, “I do not want to talk about Harry right now. I want to talk about us, because I think we need a good talk after all the things that have happened lately.”

Zayn shrugs. “Probably, yes.”

“I want to know why you never told me anything,” Louis says, walking his feet in the indentations of a chariot’s wheels.

“I’ve only known for about a year and a half,” Zayn says.

“You could have gone up to me any time during those eighteen months, Zayn, that is not an explanation why you never did.”

“Mum and dad thought it would be best if I kept it quiet. There have been some new developments in politics, men who can get pregnant are a lot more tolerated now with the new protection laws and all. I think that is why mum and dad told you now, because the risk of us getting socially isolated is much smaller,” Zayn says. “You were only fifteen at the time when they told me, and I didn’t want to be the one to lay that burden on you when you were so young.”

“That’s really sweet and I know you wanted to protect me, but why didn’t you tell me when I got with Harry?” Louis asks, looking sideways at Zayn. “You could have told me at any given moment when you noticed things were serious, and you did not. Why?”

“Like I said, I don’t think there will be much of an issue between you and Harry over it. He needs an heir and I think he really wants one as well, and trust me, I think he will be over the moon when he hears he can have his own children with you.”

Louis feels his cheeks heating up and he clears his throat, “Well, don’t start predicting the future already – you are not Harry after all.”

“Thank God,” Zayn grins, “I wouldn’t know what to do with you and your seemingly recently inflamed hormones.”

“Zayn,” Louis whines, “Why do you always have to make your jokes at my expense. It’s not funny.”

“That is what little brothers are for, you should embrace your fate,” Zayn smiles, “Anyway, do you have any more questions or accusations to throw at me for not telling you about our slightly divergent anatomy?”

Louis makes a face. “It sounds really weird when you put it like that. But yes, I do have a question.”

They reach the gate of Longbourn and Zayn pushes the fence open, letting Louis walk through first. The front door is opened, Hill is shaking out the washed sheets, splattering droplets everywhere.

“Well, what is it?” Zayn asks, walking into the quiet and pleasantly cold house.

Louis toes off his shoes and makes a dismissive wave with hand. “We’ll talk about it in our room.” He turns towards Hill and tells her, “If Harry comes by later – and I am pretty sure he will – you can call me right away.”

He walks up the stairs behind Zayn, his brother remarking, “So first you run away from him and then you hope he shows up here? That is a bit messed up.”

“Perhaps your encouragements about Harry not leaving me over this have made me optimistic?” Louis mumbles.

“Or maybe you just want him in your, excuse me, our room for whatever sexual reason,” Zayn says, feigning a stern look at his brother.

“I am seventeen, you cannot blame me,” Louis sputters.

“Right, so I should just punch Harry in the face for defiling your honour next time you show up with bruises in your neck, hm?” Zayn asks, raising his eyebrows.

“You will do no such thing.” Louis moves past him, knocking Zayn sideways with his shoulders and he opens the door of their bedroom. He flops down onto the bed and sighs.

Zayn undoes the buttons of his waistcoat and hangs it over the back of a chair, ducking a bit to gaze out the window. The bright colours of spring are making their slightly messy but beautiful garden come alive again and the sun is happily hiding behind the high tops of the trees.

“So,” Zayn says, turning back towards Louis and sitting down on the bed next to him. “What did you want to ask me – and please, do not let it be a sexual question which requires this privacy.”

Louis pulls a face. “Ew, no. I just wanted to ask you about Liam.”

Zayn’s smile falls. “Liam?”

“Yes,” Louis nods, looking at his folded hands in his lap. “You told me he courts Miss Smith because his parents want an heir for the family business. But, you know, given our special circumstances there should not be a problem, right? You can give him the heir his parents so desperately want, and you can both be with the person you love – each other.”

Zayn sighs deeply, his shoulders slightly sagging. “It’s not that simple, Louis,” he mumbles. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, rubbing his eyes.

“What am I missing here then?” Louis asks.

Zayn sits back up straight, tucking his ankle underneath his thigh and sitting sideways. “Liam is a bit different from Harry in many aspects, Louis. For instance, Liam is outgoing to everyone he meets, he smiles more than he frowns and he actually shows it when he cares about someth—ow!” Zayn holds his elbow where Louis swatted him.

“ _Your point_?” Louis demands, raising his eyebrows.

“My point is that, weirdly, Liam is a bit more traditional in other aspects than Harry is. Aspects such as men being able to have children.”

“What are you saying?” Louis asks.

“I am saying that Liam has been raised by his parents with the idea that men who can get children aren’t ‘whole’ men and that they should not be allowed to marry with other men. His parents have told him it’s an abomination.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis mumbles, his mouth twitching when Zayn gives him a disapproving glance. “I-I mean, have you told him about yourself? Did he say those things when you told him?”

“I haven’t told him,” Zayn shakes his head, “I have occasionally dropped the subject during a conversation and then he told me all about his family’s principles.”

“Yes, but what about _his_ principles?” Louis presses.

Zayn shrugs. “I don’t think Liam has given it any thought himself, since he has never experienced it within his close circle of acquaintances. He never really had an occasion where he had to give his own opinion.”

“God,” Louis sighs, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “No wonder you never told him when he explained everything about needing an heir.”

“Yes, well,” Zayn clears his throat. “It’s over and done with, right? Liam and I were just a simple, casual flirt. He has a woman now and I am over my feelings for him.”

Louis gives him a look.

“I mean it,” Zayn says, “He could pass me in the street and I would not even notice him.”

“I don’t really think that’s—”

Louis is interrupted by the knockings on the door. “Come in,” he says.

The door opens and Hill pokes her head around it. “Sir Harry Styles has arrived, and he does not look very at ease.”

Louis shares a glance with Zayn, biting his lower lip. “Thank you Hill,” he says, returning his gaze towards the elder woman. “I will be down shortly.”

“Actually,” Zayn says, “Let Sir Styles come up here.”

“What?” Louis asks, “This is my bedroom Zayn, it’s improper.”

Zayn shakes his head. “It is also a safe space for you and you feel at ease here. Trust me when I say you need to have the safety of this room when you tell Harry something as big as this.”

The nerves in Louis’ stomach flare up at Zayn’s words and he nods at his brother. “I guess you’re right,” he mumbles, and he tells Hill to bring Harry up here.

“Good luck, and remember,” Zayn says, a soft smile on his lips, “Your self-worth does not depend on whether Harry accepts you for who you are or not. You’re perfectly made either way, Lou, remember that.”

Louis nods and smiles shakily at his brother, who squeezes his hand for a brief second before stepping out of the room.

He stares at the walls for a while, his chest rising and lowering steadily with every breath. There are thoughts running through his head, decisions to be made. He could push it away, tell Harry there was something going on at home. He could avoid the risk of Harry leaving him.

But then he thought about the bond Harry and he had built over the last few months. Harry had stood beside him through everything and he had shown him that there was no one in the world he cared for more than Louis himself. Maybe he should repay Harry’s grand gestures by giving him the truth. Harry deserves the truth.

Louis looks up when there is a knock on the door again. “Come in,” he says.

The door opens and Harry steps inside the room, his eyes briefly flicking over his surroundings before he closes the door behind him. He walks towards Louis and crouches in front of him, their faces eye-level.

“I was worried about you, Louis. You just ran off without saying anything. Are you alright, are you ill?” Harry asks, taking Louis’ hands in his own.

Louis shakes his head. “No, no I’m alright. I’m sorry I left you there in the shop, I really needed to talk to my brother.”

Harry visibly swallows. “You needed to talk to your brother? Right after I told you that I want you to stay in my life?” He clears his throat, “Are you having second thoughts about our courtship, Louis? Is that why you wanted to talk to Zayn?”

“No, not at all,” Louis shakes his head quickly. “I… There is something I have to tell you. And it’s very important but I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what, little one?” Harry asks, his thumbs stroking the backs of Louis’ hands.

“Afraid that you’ll cancel the courtship, and I guess I’m even more afraid of what you will think of me after I tell you.”

Harry stands up and moves sideways, sitting down next to Louis and winding his arm around Louis’ waist. “You can tell me anything, Louis, and I promise to keep an open mind and not judge you until you’ve told me everything there is to it. You don’t have to be afraid, it’s important that we talk to each other about the things that frighten us.”

Louis looks up briefly, resting his forehead against Harry’s jaw. “You frighten me,” he whispers, his fingers fiddling with the buttons on Harry’s jacket. “The way you look at me, like I am something more precious than anything you have ever seen, it frightens me. And when you talk about us, about the future we could have together, it frightens me because I’m afraid to let you down.”

“It’s alright, Lou,” Harry presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ head. “I am afraid too. I often think I’m too cold for your warm shine, or that I am too closed off and distant at times when you need me to be close. I’m afraid to ask more of you than what you can give me, and it leaves me with pain in my heart because I would never want you to feel like you’re not enough.”

“A-And what if I’m too much for you?” Louis asks.

“I don’t see how you can ever be too much for me.”

Louis pulls back from Harry’s embrace and looks the older man in his eyes. “I found out something about myself earlier, and it could probably change the rest of my life.”

“What is it?” Harry asks.

Louis takes a deep breath, breathes out shakily and then takes Harry’s hands in his own.

“I found out that I can get pregnant.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Pregnant?”

Louis casts his eyes down towards his knees and nods. “It runs in our family and my mother told me there is a very large chance I can get pregnant as well. I—,” he stutters, “I just wanted you to know that I’m… different.”

He keeps his eyes fixed on his knees and breathes out through his parted lips. Harry stays quiet for a long time and dread finds its way into Louis’ heart, sending possible scenario’s into his thoughts which makes him want to cry.

He carefully lifts his head and glances at Harry’s face.

Harry is smiling. His eyes are bright and he is looking at Louis like he is holding the world in the palm of his hands.

“You can get pregnant,” he says softly, disbelief and happiness clouding his expression and he takes Louis’ hands in his own and leans in.

Louis’ heart lurches when Harry kisses him, their lips gently brushing and their breathing entangling. Harry moves his hands along Louis’ chest to the nape of his neck and he brings him in closer, their chests pressed together as Harry deepens the kiss.

Louis opens his mouth to give Harry access and moans softly when Harry slips his tongue inside his mouth, his large hands cupping Louis’ cheeks and his thumbs sliding along Louis’ cheekbones in a both soothing yet desperate way.

Harry’s breath is warm on Louis’ lips when he pulls away. “This cannot be real,” he whispers, kissing Louis again and smiling against his lips. “This must be a dream, it must be.”

Louis feels his eyes filling with tears of relief and happiness. “It’s not a dream, Harry, it’s real.”

Harry laughs, his carefree, loud and open laugh which Louis doesn’t see a lot and he shakes his head again, his curls jumping along. “Every time I think you cannot be more of a miracle, something happens which makes you even more perfect. I can’t believe it Lou, it’s so – so wonderful and beautiful. You do realise that you are able to grow life inside your body? Your own flesh and blood, a child who will give you so much love and warmth. It’s a blessing, a beautiful, beautiful blessing.”

Now Louis laughs as well, a few tears spilling over his cheeks which Harry kisses away. “You really think that?” he asks, his eyes bright and his hopes high as he looks at the man in front of him.

“I know it,” Harry whispers, and their lips meet again in a kiss which is more relieved laughter and salty tears of happiness than actually lips touching.

-

They walk around the garden for the rest of the afternoon, soaking up the sunlight and talking about things that make them laugh. Harry holds him whenever he can, sneaking kisses behind the large trees and slipping two fingers underneath Louis’ shirt, trailing them along the soft skin of Louis’ back.

They end up falling backwards into the long grass which hides them from everything and Louis rolls onto Harry, settling in between Harry’s long legs.

“Will things ever not be chaotic between us?” he asks, pressing his lips against the warm skin in Harry’s neck. He feels comfortable and safe in the embrace of the other man and he never wants to leave.

“If by chaotic you mean that you keep on proving to me that you’re only getting more amazing with every day that passes – then I hope things never cease to be chaotic,” Harry says, his grin wide and free.

Louis smiles down at him and presses a few fingers in Harry’s curls, twirling them and leaning down to kiss Harry. Harry makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat, his hands coming up to hold Louis’ hips gently and he rolls them over. They both laugh when Louis turns his head sideways, pressing his nose into the grass and sneezing.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” Louis smiles, looking up at Harry. The sun is like a bright halo around his head with his ruffled hair. “Just you and me, away from everybody else.”

“I can’t say that I wish the same,” Harry says, a twinkle in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” Louis asks suspiciously, leaning up to press another kiss against Harry’s lips.

“I mean that I have been wanting to ask you a question all day, but you ran out of the shop before I could pose the question.”

“Oh?” Louis says, raising his eyebrows, “Well, you can ask me now then?”

Harry smiles. “I wanted to ask you if you, Zayn and your mother could accompany me and Liam to Pemberley.”

“Pemberley?” Louis asks, eyes widening.

“Yes, I want to show you where I live and where I grew up. It would be a nice change for the both of us and now that you’ve told me so much about yourself, I want you to know more about me as well. And Pemberley has more of my character in it than anything else.”

Louis smiles brightly. “It sounds like an amazing idea, I would love to.”


	19. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and his family arrive at Pemberley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hi, it's me again. Hope y'all remember me but I understand if you don't, 'cause it's been an embarrassing long time since I updated this fic.  
> \- I'm in the middle of being sick and studying for finals, so things are not ideal. But here you go, another chapter!
> 
> Enjoy :)

“Louis, wake up.”

Louis slowly rubs his eyes, ignoring the soft words spoken into his ear. His head lolls sideways onto someone’s shoulder and he feels the tickle of curls against his temple.

“We’re nearly there, sleepyhead,” the voice says again, an amused ring to it.

This time Louis opens his eyes, bringing his hand up to stifle a yawn. He tilts his head upright again and sees his mother and Zayn sitting in front of him, smiling at him. There’s a warm presence against his side and he looks sideways, meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Hi,” he whispers, his voice thick with sleep.

“Afternoon,” Harry says, a bemused twitch around his lips. “I feel sorry for waking you but we are nearly arriving at Pemberley, and I’d hate for you to miss the view.”

“What view?” Louis asks. He leans forward and looks out the window of the wobbling carriage.

His breathing hitches in his throat when he catches sight of the mansion. Pemberley is everything everyone told him and even more. The green gardens seem to reach out onto the horizon and beyond, numerous sculpted fountains at every interception of the well-kept paths. The mansion itself is grey and enormous, stretching out to the side and into the sky with four stories. A few servants are opening the windows on the second and third floor, silk curtains fluttering in the wind as if they are waving towards the stables at the other side of the dominion.

“It’s so big,” is all Louis can say. He feels stupid the second the words leave his mouth, but for now, he cannot think of another way to describe what he sees in front of him.

His mother laughs and Zayn grins, but Harry shrugs and smiles. “I guess it is.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis says sheepishly, “It’s just that I never expected to see a bigger estate than Netherfield Park. It looks absolutely beautiful, Harry. I really see why you love it so much here.”

“Wait until you see it up close,” Harry smiles, pressing a kiss against Louis’ head.

-

After the carriage door is opened, Louis takes the out held hand of the servant and steps out of the carriage. He breathes in the fresh air and he feels like his smile is going to split his face in half.

Zayn gets out as well, siding up beside him. “I guess this is the moment where you decide to become Mr. Louis Styles, hm?” he grins, looking at the house.

Louis laughs. “I’m not shallow, Zayn. Still, you can’t deny that this is the biggest and most beautiful estate you’ve ever seen in your entire life,” he states, craning his neck to stare up.

“It is truly beautiful, Lou, and I know you’ll be happy here.”

Louis gives his brother a thankful smile before turning around and helping their mother out of the carriage. Harry follows last, greeting the servant and inquiring after the health of the man’s mother, telling him that if there is anything they need, they should come to him first. Louis overhears the short conversation with a proud smile on his face and a warming heart.

“Oh, goodness!” Mrs. Tomlinson exclaims, holding tight onto her bonnet to prevent it from flying away with the wind as she also tilts her head to look at the house up close. “Isn’t that just beautiful, boys?”

Harry walks up beside Louis, smiling at their surprise and glee. “I am delighted to see you all find the house to exceed your expectations. Now, if you would like to follow me inside? I would like to introduce you to my aunt, Lady Strathmore.”

“She already sounds intimidating,” Louis says, folding his hand in Harry’s elbow. They walk up the marble steps together, two servants opening the front door to them.

As they walk into the grand foyer, Louis hears the soles of his shoes clack on the flooring. His mouth falls open slightly, staring up at the painted ceilings and the shimmering chandeliers hanging from them. His eyes trail downwards again, stopping at the sight of an elderly woman standing at the top of the large stairs.

Her smile is kind and her dress moves soundlessly while she gracefully walks down the stairs, stopping a few meters in front of him.

Harry clears his throat, taking Louis’ hand in his own. “Louis Tomlinson, it is my genuine pleasure to introduce you to my aunt, Lady Strathmore of Chesterfield.”

Louis bows in front of her, smiling when he straightens himself. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Strathmore.”

“Dear aunt,” Harry says, his eyes bright, “This is Louis Tomlinson, the man I have decided to court.”

Lady Strathmore smiles at Harry. “I am delighted to finally meet the person who my dear nephew cannot stop talking about.” She takes a step forward and takes Louis’ hand, shaking it softly. “Welcome to Pemberley, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis swallows his initial nerves away and nods, “Thank you, my Lady.”

She gives him another warm smile, and then turns towards Zayn and Mrs. Tomlinson. “This is a part of your family, I presume?”

Louis nods. “Yes, my Lady. My older brother, Zayn Tomlinson, and my dear mother, Mrs. Tomlinson.”

“Lovely,” Lady Strathmore says, smiling when they bow for her and then shaking both of their hands as a sign of welcome.

“Has Liam already arrived?” Harry asks, beckoning some servants to help them with their coats and scarves.

“Not yet, but he did send a letter yesterday that he expected to arrive before supper. However, you never know how a journey pans out when riding on horseback,” Lady Strathmore says.

Harry nods, walking over to Louis and taking his coat and scarf first, before handing it to one of the servants. “Would you like some tea and biscuits after the long jouney?”

“That would be lovely,” Mrs. Tomlinson smiles.

They follow Harry and Lady Strathmore through the large hallways. Louis is glad Harry is guiding him with a hand on his lower back, because otherwise he would have stopped and spent minutes staring up at all the artwork lining the walls. For a second he thinks he has spotted a portrait painting of Harry, but they have passed it once he realises.

-

“Harry,” Lady Strathmore says, putting her empty cup of tea back on the salon table. “Why don’t you show Louis around the house, so I can help Mrs. Tomlinson and Zayn settle into their respective rooms?”

Louis is relieved they are being let go, the handful of servants next to every door making him feel nervous and watched. He finishes his cup of tea and wipes the crumbs of the biscuit off of his trousers.

“Of course,” Harry says, standing up and holding his hand out for Louis, “I am curious to know what you’ll think of Pemberley once I have shown you some more than just the gardens and the ground floor.”

Louis takes Harry’s hand and stands up. “Lead the way, Sir Styles,” he smiles, nodding his goodbye to Lady Strathmore.

They walk out of the salon, and Louis lets out a deep sigh once the doors behind him close again.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, a gentle smile on his face. “I know it can be a bit much, all those servants. My aunt is kind of stuck in the proper traditions when meeting new people, but I think she will be calmer once she is used to you. Aside from Liam and Taylor there are not many people who regularly stay at Pemberley.”

“She likes Taylor?”

Harry shrugs, “I think she does.” He looks at Louis and then entwines their fingers together. “But you don’t need to worry. Just because she likes Taylor does not mean she will not like you.”

“It’s the nerves,” Louis says, “I’ve never met any of your family before, let alone in you huge mansion.”

“I understand,” Harry smiles. “Then let’s make it less of an huge mansion and more of my home, which I can now finally show you.”

“That sounds good.” Louis mirrors his smile and presses a quick kiss against Harry’s lips, letting himself be guided through the long hallways.

-

Louis thinks he has found the reason why Harry is so slim and fit, since getting from A to B in this house requires at least the same distance between the front of Longbourn’s garden and the back of it.

They pass multiple rooms, looking inside them for a few moments. Louis spends his fair share of minutes laughing at Harry’s portraits from when he was little, pointing out how his curls look so lifelike in the paintings. Harry endures the teasing with a smile around his lips, and pokes Louis in the side every once in a while, making the laughing boy jump a little before kissing him.

“This is one huge dining room,” Louis says, eyes wide open. The long wooden table has at least twenty-five chairs on either side, with two big and plush chairs at the short ends. “You can nearly fit half of Hertfordshire’s population in here.”

“If you leave out the regiment,” Harry grins, looking at Louis while the boy walks through the room, examining the paintings and sliding his fingers along the golden edges of the ceramic plates.

“I’m pretty sure not even the King himself has a palace like this,” Louis states, resisting the urge to try out if he can slide across the wooden floors on his shoes.

“I can affirm that,” Harry nods solemnly.

Louis turns around to him, mouth falling open slightly. “You’ve _been_ in the King’s palace?”

Harry bursts out laughing at Louis’ incredulous stare. “No, of course not, love,” he smiles, “But I did receive an invitation last year.”

“Why didn’t you go?” Louis asks, siding up next to Harry. They walk back into the hallway, taking the stairs to the second floor.

Harry gives him a mysterious smile. “I don’t know – I guess I am waiting until I can bring the right person along.”

Louis smiles and ducks his head, leaning against Harry’s shoulder. They walk across the second floor until Harry stops at a door.

“This is my bedroom,” he says, his hand on the doorknob.

Louis feels curiosity bubbling up. “Would it be proper if you’d show me?” he asks.

“No, it wouldn’t,” Harry shakes his head, but he adds with a smile, “But I don’t care.” He pushes the door open and they walk into the room.

Louis immediately notices how comfy and light it looks. There is a large four-poster bed against one wall, facing the open windows. He walks further inside, looking at the beautifully painted walls and the soft-looking rug underneath his feet. The bed looks soft and the big pillows are fluffed up, covering nearly half the bed. There are two chaise-longues in front of the white fire place and the accompanying wall is covered with bookcases from the floor up until the ceiling. Louis inspects the books, most of the names he recognises are French poets and philosophers.

“What do you think?” Harry asks, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist.

They walk over towards the window, Louis looking over the outstretching grounds and the row of pine trees on the horizon.

“It looks absolutely amazing,” he whispers, leaning back against Harry’s chest. “It smells like you as well.”

Harry gently spins him around, “Is that a good thing?”

Louis nods and stands up on his toes, “A very good thing,” he whispers, before closing the distance between them.

Harry’s lips are soft and warm against his own, sending tingles down his legs. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, pulling their bodies closer together and deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds, Harry pulls back, apologetically kissing Louis’ lips a few times. “Wait, there is something I need to show you first.”

Louis nods, half-dazed already by the kiss and how long he’s had to wait for it.

They walk back into the hallway and stop at a door a few feet away from Harry’s bedroom. Harry puts his hand on the doorknob and looks over his shoulder, smiling at Louis.

“What’s through there?” Louis asks.

“Through here?” Harry asks,  a gleam in his eyes. “The library.”

Louis barely has time to notice the veiled hint or Harry’s hungry look before he’s being pulled gently into the library, the door closing behind them.

-

Zayn inspects his room, quietly sighing at what a rich man Louis has entangled in his net, letting his fingers slide along the soft sheets and the silk curtains.

His mother has a room across the hall and Zayn is willing to bet she is already enjoying a luxurious bath by now. He has to say, the large bathtub in his own private bathroom looks very tempting, but it is the middle of the day and he does not feel like having a bath.

He opens the windows, looking out over the garden. His room is situated on the back of the house, shielding it from the warm sun and keeping the space cool. There are a few men working on a fountain below him, seeming to be putting some final touches to the sculpting.

A soft knock on the door startles him out of his calm thoughts.

“Yes?” he asks.

“It’s Liam, can I come in?”

Zayn’s breathing hitches in his throat and he feels panic breaking out inside of him. What is Liam doing here? What if he knows about him and Louis? He tugs on the lapels of his jacket, straightening himself and steeling his jaw.

“Come in.”

Even though he thinks he is prepared to see Liam, it turns out that he is not. While Liam steps into the room, a guarded expression on his face, Zayn can’t help but stare at him. Liam is still wearing his riding attire, a small gleam of sweat on his forehead and he looks even broader than the last time Zayn saw him.

“What are you doing here?” Zayn asks, turning around and leaning on the balustrade of the window. He will not pretend to be proper and courteous around Liam, it is of no use anyway.

“I heard you, Louis and your mother arrived this afternoon,” Liam says, stepping further into the room. “Did you have a pleasant journey?”

“Every travel to a place where it smells better than in Hertfordshire is a pleasant journey in and on itself,” Zayn replies, a closed-off tone in his voice. He tries to keep his eyes fixed on something in the garden but he can smell and feel Liam’s closeness, and his eyes want to slip shut so he can focus on it.

“I see,” Liam says, clearing his throat. “And did yo—”

“What do you _want_ , Liam?” Zayn asks sternly, his fingers clenching around the metal balustrade.  “If you want to trade out niceties then I suggest you wait an hour until supper begins because then I have to answer any questions you might throw at me.”

He hears Liam sigh behind him, taking a few steps closer. “Zayn,” he says, “Don’t be like that.”

Zayn closes his eyes, feeling the annoying prickling of tears behind his eyelids. “Just go,” he whispers, feeling the drops on his eyelashes when he opens his eyes again.

“Look at me,” Liam says, a pleading edge to his voice.

“I don’t want to,” Zayn shakes his head. “Please go, go write a letter to your fiancée to tell her you’ve arrived safely. Do not waste your time on me.”

This time Liam comes up behind him, gently turning him around by his shoulders. “I told you,” he whispers, slowly wiping away a tear from Zayn’s cheek, “Don’t be like that. Talk to me.”

“There is nothing left to talk about, Liam. There hasn’t been since that night you essentially told me I wasn’t good enough for you and your family,” Zayn says, staring hard at Liam.

“That’s not true, you are good enough to—”

“Am I?” Zayn interrupts, “Because it seems like I am not. If even my younger brother Louis has the chance to marry someone with the family name of Styles, then surely we could be together as well. But since we can’t – the only logical conclusion is that your family doesn’t want a half-man m-marrying their eldest son.” Zayn’s voice skips and he closes his eyes in dread.

“What do you mean ‘half-man’?” Liam asks, sounding confused.

Zayn opens his eyes, shaking his head. “Forget it, just get out.”

“Zayn,” Liam says, bringing his hand up to Zayn’s cheek where more tears are sliding down, “Is there something you should tell me?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything!” Zayn says, swatting Liam’s hand away. “Now go.”

“Zayn—”

“Get out!” He exclaims, pointing at the door. “And don’t come back again if you’re too stupid to figure it out yourself.” He turns back towards the open window, slamming his hand against the balustrade.

The click of the bedroom door closing sends another tear down his cheek and he angrily wipes it away.

-

After supper, it is already late and Louis is tired from the journey and the tour through the house and the gardens. Zayn didn’t say much during the meal tonight but thankfully their mother kept talking to Lady Strathmore about the beautiful ground surrounding Pemberley.

He tried talking to Zayn after they said goodnight to everyone, but Zayn kept quiet the whole way towards their rooms. Louis figures he’ll just try again tomorrow.

Right now, he is brushing his teeth with chalk, a few small droplets clinging on the points of his damp hair. He feels relaxed and warm due to the hot bath, but there is still something tingling underneath his skin. He’s felt it since Harry pulled him into the library this afternoon.

It didn’t go that far as the last time but it left Louis aching and wanting for more. He wants Harry to touch him, he wants Harry to kiss him, deep and hard until he’s panting and moaning for it.

Louis bites his lower lip, contemplating whether to force himself to bed and to go to sleep, or to follow his heart and his hormones. He decides on the latter.

In only his undergarments and a soft robe he steps out into the hallway, looking around him. The servants have all gone to bed as well and the hall is empty. The candles in the chandeliers are fluttering shadows on the wall and Louis softly tiptoes past them.

He looks over his shoulder to see the hallway still empty and then turns back around, face-first colliding with someone’s chest. He startles and yelps.

“Oh, Louis, I’m so sorry,” Liam hastily whispers, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Louis tugs his robe together to seem as presentable as he can right now. “I-it’s quite alright Liam, don’t worry. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Well yes, I was just looking for you, hoping you hadn’t gone to bed yet.”

“Looking for me?” Louis asks.

Liam nods, seeming a bit uneasy. “Yes, there is something I want to talk to you about, but we can also do this tomorrow morning if it suits you better.”

“What is it about?”

“It’s about Zayn,” Liam says.

Louis swallows hard but then nods. “What about him?”

“I.. I talked to Zayn today, and I believe I made him feel more upset with me than he already was. He said something that confused me a lot.” There is a small frown above Liam’s eyes.

Louis raises his eyebrows. “What did he say to make you confused?” he asks.

“He said something about him being only half a man, and that I was stupid if I could not figure it out by myself. So, here I am, and I guess I truly am stupid because I have no idea what he was talking about.”

There is something in Liam’s eyes which puts Louis off. Confusion, yes, but also something else. Something more hopeful and daring.

“I think you _do_ know what Zayn was talking about,” Louis says slowly. “But I think not knowing for sure frightens you because you actually want him to be that, don’t you?”

“I have no idea what you and Zayn are talking about, Lou, I really don’t.”

Louis nods slowly. “I think you do. And when you accept that and are able to deal with that, then you can go and tell Zayn. I’m not of much use for you, I’m sorry.”

Liam seems to want to say something again but eventually he shuts his mouth and nods. “I understand. Thank you, Lou.”

“You’re welcome. Please, excuse me,” he says, giving Liam a small smile before he turns the corner and ascends down the stairs.

The short talk with Liam has done nothing to ease the stirring feeling of want in his lower stomach and Louis sends a quick prayer to the gods that Harry will not reject him from coming into his room tonight.

He walks down the hallway and stops in front of Harry’s door. He takes a deep breath and steels himself, bringing his hand up to knock against the wood of the door. There are a few sounds coming from behind the door after he knocked and then the door opens, revealing Harry in nothing more but his breeches and his white, V-neck undershirt.

“Louis.” Harry’s eyes widen at the sight of him. “Are you okay? Is something the matter?”

Louis swallows hard, his eyes flitting over Harry’s half-naked chest. “No, erm, there’s nothing wrong,” he whispers. He brings his eyes back to Harry’s, “But I need you.”

He doesn’t have to say any more words, for there is a dawning of understanding in Harry’s eyes, along with a glint of fire.

“It’s really not a smart plan,” Harry whispers, his eyes trailing down Louis’ body and back to meeting his eyes. He takes Louis’ hand and leads him into the room, closing the door behind them.

He crowds Louis against the door, his hands on either side of Louis’ head and his hot breath on Louis’ lips. “ _Really_ not a smart plan,” he mutters, closing the distance between them hungrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Thank you for reading!  
> \- Find me on my [tumblr](http://www.hazza-andtommo.tumblr.com)  
> \- I think there is about 2 or 3 chapters left in this story :)
> 
> Feedback is lovingly drooled upon!


	20. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look who has returned from the depths of hell? I intend to wrap this story up before the end of August, so sit tight everyone!
> 
> The chapter begins with some smut, if that is not to your liking you can just skip past that :)

Louis surges up into Harry’s touch, his back tingling in the places where Harry’s hands have found their way. His lips mould against Harry’s, warmth stirring in his belly every time their tongues brush against each other. He slowly pulls back to mouth at Harry’s neck, pressing his nose against the soft skin. Harry smells like chalk and soap, a freshness that makes Louis’ head feel cloudy. He treads his hands through Harry’s hair, fingers twirling around the damp curls. Harry breathes into his hair when Louis tugs on one of them.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Harry says, the sound of his voice just above a whisper. “It’s not late yet, someone could still call for me.”

“I know,” Louis murmurs. “I just ran into Liam, looking like this. But I couldn’t help it, I’ve been on edge ever since we were in the library this afternoon. If you are going to wind me up the least you could do is take care of me, you know.” He grins cheekily, pressing another kiss against Harry’s throat.

Harry laughs, his fingers briefly playing with the tied knot of Louis’ robe, before dropping them to Louis’ hands, tugging him to the bed. They sit down next to each other, Louis leaning his head against Harry’s shoulder.

“I’ve been thinking about you as well, Lou,” Harry says, looking down at their entwined fingers. “It is… very pleasant to have you at Pemberley with me. Like a missing piece finally fit into a puzzle.”

Louis feels as if his heart is expanding in his chest. “Really?” he asks, turning sideways and hooking his legs over Harry’s thigh. When Harry nods, Louis grins. “Then again, who wouldn’t feel like a prince in a house like this? I think I finally understand why you were such a di—” Harry raises his eyebrows pointedly, “—distant person back then,” Louis finishes.

“Oh, a distant person?” Harry smiles, tickling Louis’ side. “For a second there I thought you were going to call me a dick.”

“Never,” Louis says, fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly. He laughs and climbs fully into Harry’s lap, his knees on either side of Harry’s thighs. Leaning in, he presses his lips against Harry’s and guides the other man’s hands to his back.

Harry happily obliges, pulling Louis’ into his arms and deepening the kiss. Louis’ position causes the knot of his robe to slip and Harry brings one hand to the front, tugging the knot completely loose.

“Is this alright?” he asks, his fingers still holding onto the laces, keeping the robe shut.

Louis nods briefly before capturing Harry’s lips into the kiss again, his tongue dipping beneath Harry’s for a second, making the other man shiver.

Harry lets go of the laces and gently pushes the robe off of Louis’ shoulders. It lands on the floor with a soft sound and Harry takes a sharp breath when he feels the naked skin of Louis’ chest and back underneath his hands.

The feeling of Harry’s fingers sliding up and down along his nipples makes Louis’ skin cover in goosebumps and he leans back, looking at Harry. He can feel Harry’s hard cock against his ass, his own pressing against the thin fabric of his underpants.

Harry must have seen the uncertainty in his eyes, for he brings his hands up to his jaw and trails his fingers along his cheekbones. “Are you alright? We can stop if you want to.”

One corner of Louis’ lips cracks into a smile. “We probably _should_ stop, but I don’t want to. I’m just,” he sighs, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s lips because it’s familiar and safe, “I’m just not sure what to do.”

“We do not really have to do anything, Lou,” Harry smiles, his eyes brighter than Louis has ever seen. “We’ve got plenty enough time for all of that in the future. Just lie back on the bed, I will take care of you.”

Louis’ breath nearly stops at the promise in those words and he quite literally scrambles off of Harry’s lap, moving to lie back against the numerous pillows stacked up against the headboard.

“You know,” he says, looking at his surroundings and wiggling to get more comfy, “I could definitely get used to all of this.”

Harry grins, joining him on the bed and settling in between his legs. “I intend you to,” he says, pressing a kiss against Louis’ lips before trailing his mouth downwards. He sucks a kiss against the skin on Louis’ collar bone, watching the skin slightly darkening.

Louis averts his eyes from the sight of Harry on top of him in bed for the first time, worrying it might be over too soon if he keeps on focusing on that arousing thought. He stares at the ceiling, his breathing getting a little shallower when Harry’s lips skim across his nipples.

“Can you,” he chokes out, feeling his blood rush to his lower regions, “Can you take off your shirt?”

Harry sits back and nods, “Of course,” he says, and he lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor next to Louis’ robe.

Louis sits up before Harry can lean down, stretching his arms around Harry’s waist and tugging him close. His lips find Harry’s skin and he kisses along Harry’s sternum and his collar bones.

“Louis,” Harry breathes out, threading his hand through Louis’ messy hair. “You’re going to be the end of me.”

Louis laughs, leaning back into the pillows again. “I don’t mean to. By all means, carry on what you were doing.”

Harry’s eyes rave over Louis’ comfortable, inviting figure and he surges down to meet Louis’ lips in a searing kiss, his hands sliding up and down Louis’ torso.

Louis can feel Harry’s erection along his hip and he whines softly, pressing his hips up against it. He feels Harry’s lips faltering in the kiss, Harry’s hands moving down to tug his own and Louis’ underpants down.

“Oh God,” Louis moans, feeling his cock spring free and softly smacking against Harry’s stomach. “Fuck…”

“Lou,” Harry whispers, biting down on Louis’ lower lip which makes Louis buck his hips up again, searching for contact. “You’re so beautiful.”

His hands slide underneath Louis’ body, cupping Louis’ ass and lifting his hips. Grinding down with his own, their cocks slide along each other, creating wonderful friction.

Louis digs his blunt nails in the meaty muscle of Harry’s shoulders, pushing and writhing against him for more contact. The scent of arousal and sweat gathers around them, making him feel light-headed.

“Please,” he whispers, the word broken off into a moan when the head of Harry’s cock bumps against his own. “More.”

“Fuck,” Harry grits out between his teeth, pulling one hand out from under Louis and bringing it up. He gathers their lengths in his hand, jerking off both of them.

A high sound leaves Louis’ throat at the hot, slick contact. He presses his heels into the mattress, lifting his hips into Harry’s hands. The muscles in his thighs strain heavenly with Harry’s weight between them.

Harry grips both of their cock tighter, creating a faster rhythm which makes both of them see stars.

Louis feels the tightening in his balls, the stirring in his lower stomach wound tight by now and he meets Harry’s eyes. “I—I’m going to come,” he mutters, kissing Harry’s red-bitten lips.

“Me too, love,” Harry smiles, “You’re amazing, absolutely gorgeous.”

“Harry,” Louis breathes, his cheeks tinting red underneath the praise. His hands cling harder onto Harry’s biceps, the tension in his body building up, his hips erratically bucking up.

“Do it, Lou, come for me,” Harry whispers in his ear, his tongue flicking along Louis’ earlobe.

That’s what does it for him, Louis feels all the built-up pressure bursting out and he moans high in his throat, coming hard between their bodies. “Fuck, Harry,” he whispers over and over, still rocking against Harry’s hips.

“So good for me,” Harry moans, his thrusts growing in tempo, Louis’ come adding to the slick on his cock. “Oh God—” He comes with a choked off groan, burying his head in the crook of Louis’ shoulder.

Louis breathes in the scent of Harry’s wild, unruly hair and he sighs deeply, eyes focusing again. He hasn’t felt this relaxed and content in days and he brings his hands up to Harry’s face, pressing a kiss against Harry’s temple.

Harry lifts his face, meeting Louis’ eyes. He smiles at him, tired eyes gleaming with admiration and love. “That was amazing.”

Louis nods, his arms winding around Harry’s body and pulling him tight against him. Their stomachs and chests are slick with sweat and come, both of them pulling a face that makes the other laugh.

“Look at us,” Louis mutters, happiness making the corners of his eyes smile. “We should clean up soon.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, too tired to finish his words properly, “Soon. But for now…” He also hugs Louis close, kissing him softly and closing his eyes.

-

The sun is shining brightly, the promise of another warm summer day already creeping in the early hours of the morning. Zayn can’t help but yawn, stretching his arms over his head.

He should have gone to bed earlier last night but Lady Strathmore had invited him in the library. She is a nice lady, and even though she is a little old and her class is way above his, they found a mutual interest. They stayed up late talking about Shakespeare, ending their conversation with her invitation to one of the plays if he should ever find himself in London.

Zayn smiles to himself, looking over the large expanse of Pemberley’s gardens and the forest rising up at the horizon. _If he should ever find himself in London._ A few months ago he might have hoped that Liam would take him there, but those hopes are fully crushed into the ground now.

He spots a bench beneath one of the large willow trees and walks over, pushing a few branches away and sitting down on it.

Zayn stays like that for a while, listening to the birds singing their early-morning songs and watching an ant crawling over the nose of his shoe. He barely notices anything outside of the reach of the large tree, let alone someone coming closer on the path.

“Good morning, Zayn.”

He looks up, meeting Liam’s eyes as the other man also pushes a few branches away and sits down next to him.

Zayn sighs, shifting on the bench. “What are you doing here? Did I not make myself clear yesterday?”

“You did,” Liam says, also shifting a little on the cold granite. He tries to look Zayn in the eye but Zayn stubbornly looks the other way. “You told me to only come back if I could figure it out for myself.”

“Well?”

Liam sighs, “Well… After a night of thinking I guess I have figured it out.”

“Good for you. Now, please, if you would care to leave?” Zayn hears the snippiness of his own voice, realising he sounds rather childish. He doesn’t apologise however, feeling as if his pride is standing in the way of him and Liam right now.

“Zayn,” Liam says, sitting sideways and taking Zayn’s hand in between his own. “Just look at me.”

Zayn sighs, his shoulders slumping, his pride stepping away, and turns around. He meets Liam’s eyes, and knows. He knows Liam _has_ figured it out.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Liam asks, swallowing hard and seemingly struggling to keep looking Zayn in the eye. “I talked to Louis last night, and even though he didn’t tell me anything, his reactions to my questions were quite telling as well. You are both able to conceive, am I right?”

Zayn lowers his eyes to his knees, nodding. “Yes, we are.”

“Then… Then why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Liam repeats his question. “I would have understood, I would have talked to my parents, anything. The whole reason they want me to marry Sophia is because they want an heir. I could have told them about you and maybe things could have been different.”

“You told me they wanted you to marry one of the Smith daughters as a precaution,” Zayn says, trying not to focus on the way Liam doesn’t seem deterred by his biology. He will not falter underneath Liam’s soft touch or his warm, brown eyes which look at him as if he’s holding the world in his palms.

“Yes,” Liam says. “As a precaution that I would not find a man who could have children. I didn’t mention it at the time because I didn’t know about you and what your opinion on these things are. Zayn, I… Can’t you see that we could ha—”

 “Could have what?” Zayn asks. “Have a future together as long as I told you soon enough about me? No, Liam, that’s not how this works. We could have had a future together even if I wasn’t able to have children, but you were too much of a coward to stand up to your parents. If you really, _really_ wanted me or loved me, then you would have courted me anyway. Regardless whether I could bear your children or not.”

“Zayn, it’s not that easy,” Liam insists, squeezing their hands.

Zayn laughs humourlessly. “It is! But that is the problem with you rich people. You’re too stuck-up to realise that your world is as simple as everyone else’s. Your decisions are the same decisions other people are forced to make. The only difficulty is, is that you have more money to lose in the process of defying your parents. And that is why most you people don’t do it, because money and status is all you really care about in the end.”

With those words, Zayn tugs his hands free from Liam’s hold and walks off, pushing the branches of the willow tree out of his way.

-

It takes Liam a while before he collects himself together, walking through the gardens and thinking about the conversation he had with Zayn. The man infuriates him to no extent. He has never felt this strongly about someone. Usually, whenever someone disagrees with him or has some kind of a vendetta against him, he is able to shrug it off and to deal with it in a normal, civilised manner. But Zayn… Zayn makes him want to pull his hair out. Zayn pulls away the blood underneath his nails with his incessant refusal.

Perhaps it’s because Zayn is right that he angers him so. Zayn’s harsh, judging words have hit him to his core. Zayn is cruelly correct; he is not able to defy his parents. Ever since he was a young man, his parents have been a constant factor of control in his life. He rented Netherfield Park to be far away from them, their appearances and their parties. But still, they hooked their claws in him by making him court Miss Smith, someone he could tolerate and maybe even appreciate, but also someone he would never be attracted to or be unbelievingly happy with.

But what should he do? Should he end the courtship, face the impending wrath of his parents? Or should he bear his misfortunes and hope for the best? He finds the latter a rather depressing thought.

He is shaken out of his thoughts by Harry. He watches his friend hastily coming down the large steps leading into the garden, the gravel scrunching underneath his boots as he comes closer.

“My, Liam!” Harry says, looking happier than Liam has ever seen him. He tries not to resent his friend for it, and partially succeeds.

“You have been a hard man to find,” Harry says, brushing off some invisible dust on his jacket. “I’ve been looking for you since you didn’t show up at breakfast this morning.”

“I wasn’t that hungry,” Liam says, leaning over the low brick wall and watching at the lower level of the garden.

“Well,” Harry says, also leaning against the wall, “You ought to eat soon, you look terrible.”

“That would be by the doings of Zayn Tomlinson,” Liam says, catching his voice on the bitter tone that comes out with it.

“Zayn?” Harry asks, confused. “What is the matter?”

“I sort of guessed and he sort of told me that he is able to get pregnant,” Liam says, watching the horizon.

“So?”

Liam looks at his friend. “So? What do you mean _so?_ Did you know?”

Harry shrugs. “Louis is able to conceive, I reckoned the chance Zayn could too was substantial.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Harry sighs. “Liam, although there have been recent positive changes in the way people like Louis and Zayn are treated, it is still a very touchy subject for many people. Louis never told me that I could tell you, or my aunt, so I respected his privacy. I didn’t mean to keep it a secret from you just because I didn’t want to tell you myself. Besides, I didn’t know for sure about Zayn until you told me just then.”

“I guess that’s logical,” Liam nods. “But you are completely alright with this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Harry smiles. “It is possibly one of the best things that could have happened between me and Louis. I am able to have a family with the man I am in love with. I am unbelievably lucky to do so. For many it’s a wish that will never come true.”

“Ever the progressive one, I see,” Liam says, cracking a small smile at his friend.

“Since my parents are deceased, I am also liberated from the bounds of the traditions. But that doesn’t mean you should wait for your parents to die either, Liam, the thought is kind of morbid. If you really want to be with Zayn, then maybe a step in the path of your life is to defy your parents.”

“And be disinherited?”

“Perhaps. But you do not solely depend on your parents’ money, Liam. You have your own business. You could have a very lovely, albeit moderate life without influence from your parents.”

“I’d have to give up Netherfield Park if I do so…” Liam says.

“That house has got way too many rooms anyway,” Harry grins.

It brings a full laugh out of Liam. “You are one to talk, with your ridiculously large estate.”

“Another reason you should not worry, Liam. Pemberley is big enough for more people than just me and Louis.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Liam smiles. “Although, should I be alarmed by you already picturing Louis living here as well?”

Harry shrugs, a sudden flush high on his cheeks. “That is what I came here to talk to you about. I intend to propose to Louis before the end of this week. I have already spoken to Paul Tomlinson before this trip, and to my aunt as well. However, your approval would mean close to the world to me, dear friend.”

Liam smiles, pulling Harry into a hug. “Of course you have my blessing, Harry. You were smitten with him from the moment you laid eyes on him all those months ago.”

Harry laughs. “Yes, I believe I was.”


	21. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jumps out of whatever hole i fell into* hi y'all! remember me?

“You cheated!” Louis accusingly points his finger at his brother, throwing his cards down onto the table. “How are you out already, when I still have five? Did you put your cards inside the table drawer again?”

Zayn smiles smugly, using both his hands to drag the wooden squares towards his side of the table. He picks up Louis cards and adds them to the pile. “That summer at grandmother’s house I did nothing else but play this game. Truly, Lou, you stand no chance at all. I’ve even beaten grandmother multiple times.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Louis takes a sip from his tea and puts the cup back down onto the saucer. “I want to try again,” he says, gesturing to Zayn to start shuffling the deck of cards.

“Make sure to drink your tea before you begin, Louis,” Liam says from the couch, “I heard all about your tendency to swill people after a painful loss.” He shoots Louis a quick smile, and ducks behind the back of the couch when Louis aims a wooden square at his head.

“That only happened two times and both of those times Niall had it coming,” he says, turning back in his chair and picking up his cards. His eyes quickly scan over the aces and he does a victory cheer in his head. This time Zayn won’t win. Easily, at least.

They’ve been staying with Harry and his aunt for more than two weeks now, and they had gotten a letter from their mother that they should find their way back to Longbourn before the end of the week. Louis’ birthday was coming up in a two weeks, and apparently they are already overstepping the bounds of propriety with such a long stay. Louis told Zayn where people could stick their idea of propriety, which was rewarded with an exasperated look from his brother. Zayn also found it was time they made their way back, and even Harry agreed, even though he looked a lot less happy about it. Today would be the last day, and Louis tries to enjoy it as much as he can. Everything about Pemberley had started to feel familiar and comfortable, and he loved the house and the grounds very much. He hadn’t felt this relaxed and well rested in a very long time.

“Do you know where Harry is?” Louis asks, giving Liam a quick glance. “I haven’t seen him since breakfast, and it is almost lunch time.”

Liam shrugs. “He’s probably in his study, working.”

“He’s been so distracted the past few days, it’s like his head is filled with clouds,” Louis thinks out loud, noticing that Harry had been spending more time in his study the past few days. Whenever he had walked in, Harry’d quickly scrambled all the papers towards a corner of his desk and changed the subject if Louis asked about it.

“Maybe he’s busy with the farmers, they’re having some trouble with the soil and the harvest season is coming soon,” Liam says, not looking up from his book.

Louis hums. Written communication with farmers is not something Harry would be so secretive about, right? He takes another sip of his tea, and puts down his last card. Zayn huffs and Louis preens.

Right at that moment, a servant opens the door and Harry walks in, the tails of his coat swishing as he rounds the couch to press a kiss to Louis’ cheek. “I can see you finally won?” he asks, looking at Zayn disgruntled face.

“It only took him hundred years,” Zayn mumbles.

“And I can also see that the Tomlinsons are a family of bad losers,” Harry smirks, raising his eyebrows at Louis, who just scowls before giving Harry a kiss back.

“I’m not a sore loser, Harold, I just set high demands for myself,” he says. “And look where it got me, I’ve beaten Zayn at the only game he’s better at than me.”

“Which is admirable,” Harry concedes, with a nod of his chin. “Are you hungry? It’s nearly lunch time.”

“Yes, quite,” Louis nods. “Did the cooks have anything prepared for us?”

Harry looks at everyone in the room, and then back at Louis. “I was hoping we could go to the lunchroom outside the village? They’re serving delicious sandwiches this time of year, and a very good apple pie.”

“Oh, I’d like some apple pie!” Liam says, sitting upright. However, after meeting Harry’s eyes, he slowly lowers himself back on the couch. “On second thought – never mind, I’m good. Zayn, would you like to have lunch with me and Lady Strathmore?”

Zayn gives Liam a look, and then looks at Louis. “Shouldn’t I go with you?”

“The lunchroom is a public place, Zayn,” Louis says, “We both know you’d rather not attend as a third wheel, so it is fine if you want to stay here.”

Zayn nods, “I suppose it would be a good opportunity for you and Harry to have a last private outing together before we leave. I’ll stay here.”

“Great,” Harry beams, dimples showing. “I’ll call for our coats, the carriage is already outside.”

Louis smiles and gets up from his chair, wiping some crumbs from his cookie off of his legs. “I’ll see you later, then. Play nice,” he grins, messing up his brother’s hair. He turns around and leaves the room after Harry.

Zayn turns his head from watching Louis leave to Liam’s hopeful smile, and sighs. _Fine_.

-

When they’re in the carriage, Louis lets his body sag against Harry’s. Harry’s curls tickle the skin of his forehead so Louis playfully tugs on one before wiping it away. He always gets a little sleepy during carriage rides, the hobbling of the wheels combined with the warm body against him perfectly capable of sending him off to his dreams.

“I love the way the estate looks during summer,” he remarks, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He’s looking past Harry at the waving hills and the bright colours underneath the sunlight. “It always seems to be grey in Hertfordshire, and it’s always raining.”

Harry smiles. “Maybe that’s just your perception, little one. Perhaps everything seems better here because you’re visiting, and it’s all new. Hertfordshire is your home, you’re used to it.”

“I don’t know,” Louis shrugs, grinning at Harry. “I think it’ll stay just as beautiful here even if this were my home.” He lets the sentence hang in the air, feeling relieved when Harry sends him a smile and kisses the top of his hair.

He’s fidgeting with his hands, Louis notices. Maybe he’s nervous?

“Are you alright?” he asks, holding onto Harry’s twitching fingers. “You’ve been so busy lately, you’re going to overwork yourself.”

“It’s been a busy few days. I have been neglecting you for the past week, haven’t I?” Harry looks apologetic. “I’m sorry, Lou. There are a lot of things I had to take care of in a very short while.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s cheek. “I didn’t feel neglected. Your aunt has been very kind to me, she took me to the village and showed me where the best shops are. And Liam and Zayn’s bickering was quite entertaining as well.”

Harry laughs. “I’m sure it was.”

“So don’t trouble yourself about it, love,” Louis smiles. “I’m nearly an adult now, I can handle it.”

Harry nods at him, smiling back. He looks past him when the carriage stops. “We’re here. I hope there’s still room for us, it is quite a popular place.”

Louis opens the door and steps out by himself, grinning at the servant who looks a bit troubled. “Sorry,” he tells him, before turning back around to tug Harry out of the carriage. You’d think he’d buy a larger carriage with those long legs. “I’m sure there will be a spot for us, especially when they’ll recognise you. You are quite famous around here.”

They walk up to the front door of the restaurant, opening it and going inside. The windows are open, letting the fresh summer breeze flow through the restaurant, which is decorated in pastel colours. Some people look up and nod at Harry as they make their way towards the maître’d.

“Sir Styles, what a welcome surprise. How kind of you to stop by,” the man says, smiling at both of them. “Can I offer you a table by the window or near the back of the room?”

Harry looks at Louis, waiting. “Erm,” Louis hesitates, “A table by the window, please.”

The man nods, holding his hand out to indicate that they should follow him. Louis greets a woman who helped him in one of the shops the other day, and she smiles back at him. The people are a lot nicer here than in Hertfordshire, but maybe that’s because of Harry’s good reputation in these parts.

Their coats are taken, and Louis sinks down in the chair opposite Harry. They both pick up the black wooden slates, which have the specials of the day written on them in white chalk.

“Do you want to take a walk later?” Harry asks him, after a few minutes of inspecting the menu. “There is a lake just behind the restaurant, it’s not that big but quite lovely to walk around.”

Louis nods, “Yes, I’d like that. I tend to stuff myself full so a walk can make everything settle in my stomach before we get back on that wobbly carriage. They really should invent something else for that, because I also keep falling asleep.”

“Upsetting your stomach is indeed a valid reason to invent another mode of transportation,” Harry laughs, lightly holding onto Louis’ left hand, rubbing his thumb along his knuckles. “I did hear some rumours in London the other day, about a man who made a carriage that doesn’t need any horses.”

Louis twists his lips. “That sounds made-up. But if it is true, I’d like one of those someday.”

A young woman stops at their table to take their order, and quickly returns with their beverages.

Sipping from his glass, Harry looks outside and Louis notices him getting twitchy again. Just when he’s about to suggest Harry take a vacation sometime soon, Harry asks, “Have your family made any plans for your eighteenth birthday yet?”

Louis thinks for a while. “No, not really. Since we are leaving tomorrow, I believe my parents will tell me the plans when I get back home. I hope they do not make too much of a fuss about it like last year, when Zayn turned eighteen.”

Their sandwiches arrive a few minutes later, and Louis feels his mouth salivating at the sight. “Although you should definitely feel free to continue spoiling me during the next year of my life,” he grins, nodding at his sandwich.

“Don’t worry, I intend to,” Harry smiles. “But as for your birthday, I am sure something will be arranged that you’ll be comfortable with as well.”

“Let’s hope so,” Louis says, after swallowing a bite. “There is no need to show me off anymore, which has perhaps tampered down my mother’s grand plans to invite the whole village and their cousins.”

“She can still show you off,” Harry says, smiling down at his plate as he slices through his sandwich with his knife. “But it would only result in me fawning over you all night.”

“You already do that, anyway,” Louis teases, taking another bite. “But who knows, maybe my mother will manage to turn my birthday party into another special coming out party for Zayn. Now that Liam is out of the picture, she probably thinks Zayn should start looking again. It has been a few months, now, so maybe Zayn’s gotten over it.”

Harry gives him a blank stare. “They’re still at each other’s throats every time they’re in a room together.”

“Well, not at each other’s throats,” Louis shrugs. “But what else can he do? Liam’s getting married, he’s not gaining anything by staying angry and moping all day long.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about Liam marrying,” Harry says, taking a large bite.

“Seriously?” Louis sighs, shaking his head at the stupidly lovely man in front of him. “You drop something like that and then you stuff your mouth full?”

Harry chews with a smug smile on his face, making a show out of swallowing. Louis watches his throat work and feels a slight flush on his cheeks.

“Well?” he asks impatiently.

“I’m just thinking that Liam hasn’t seemed that sure of his decision lately, and being around Zayn for the past weeks hasn’t helped, either. Maybe he will change his mind.”

“But then he’d go in against his parents’ wishes,” Louis says, taking a sip from his drink.

“Mister and Mrs Payne aren’t the worst people in the world, I am fairly certain that they will grow to be content with Liam’s decision over time. But Liam loves them very much, he does not want to disappoint them,” Harry says, cleaning his plate with the back of his fork, eating the last remnants.

“And my brother is a disappointment,” Louis says, supporting his chin with one hand, his elbow placed on the table.

“That’s not what I meant, love. And he’s not, really, the family isn’t set back in any way if Liam courts Zayn, but their capital wouldn’t grow either. And Sophia Smith’s family is very wealthy.”

“It’s always about the money,” Louis rolls his eyes.

Harry gives him a fond smile. “You’re very progressive, my love. I’m sure you’ve been born in the wrong period of time, but sadly for now, this is how it is. In a way, one could say that I am lucky to be able to make my own decisions.”

“I do count myself lucky, too,” Louis says, bringing Harry’s hand up and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

-

After another apple cider and a piece of apple pie, Louis is surprised he can even button his coat properly.

“I’m so full,” he tells Harry for the third time, as he places his hand in the crook of Harry’s elbow. They walk out of the restaurant, nodding at a few people again.

“You’ll feel better in a bit,” Harry says, resting his hand on top of Louis’. “I think the lake is just through there.” He points at a gravel path between the high trees.

Louis can see water glistening in the distance, and he smiles. “You do know how to treat me right during my last day here. It feels like I am in another country entirely.”

“You being here makes me look at it differently as well,” Harry says, squeezing Louis’ hand tightly for a few seconds.

They walk through the high trees, gravel scrunching underneath their shoes. Louis points at a rabbit running over the path, disappearing between the plants with faint rustles. The sunlight is blocked by the tops of the trees, but when they reach the lake, the treeline stops and they are warmed by the sun again.

“Do you remember that evening we met?” Harry suddenly asks, as they walk on the path around the lake.

“Vaguely,” Louis smiles. “I can remember your disdainful looks at my horrible dancing, though.”

Harry nods, “It was bad,” and he laughs when Louis pokes his side. “But you were intriguing. That night I couldn’t remember any of the names of the people I was introduced to, but you stood out, like a candle in the middle of the night.”

Louis looks up, pleasantly surprised at Harry’s openness. “Really?” he asks.

“Yes, really. And ever since, you kept popping up into my thoughts. Drove me mad. I realize that I must have acted completely out of line when you came to Netherfield to take care of Zayn.”

Louis smiles faintly. “You were a bit intense, but it’s not like I minded very much. In the beginning I did mind, but I also liked the attention you gave me.”

“I was quite smitten with you, and then during the ball, when you got bothered by Aiden, I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Lou, you are one in a million to me. No one I ever met before then was so unique, outspoken, and honest to themselves.”

“Did you ever regret it?” Louis swallows hard. “Did you ever think we’d started our courtship too soon or that it wouldn’t last?”

“No,” Harry shakes his head firmly. “I have always been sure, but when you told me your secret, when you told me there was a chance that you could have children and make a family, my heart was completely set.”

Harry points towards a worn wooden bench alongside the lake, and they walk over. Louis expects him to sit down next to him, but Harry is twisting his fingers together nervously.

“What I am trying to say,” Harry says, breathing in deeply, “is that you’re _it_ for me, Lou. You hooked me from that very first moment and now I am all tangled up, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“Harry…” Louis breathes, his heart beating high in his throat.

When Harry sinks down on one knee, Louis feels warmth breaking out over his entire body.

“Louis William Tomlinson,” Harry says, taking a small black box out of the inner pocket of his coat. He opens the cap, revealing a golden band with three dark blue stones embedded in it. “I want to make a home together, to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Louis pulls in a sharp breath, letting the words wash over him. Is this one of those moments that are life-changing? He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, and either answer will punch the air out of him.

“Yes, of course,” he breathes out, his eyes focussing solely on the man in front of him. His fingers are shaking when he reaches out for Harry’s face, putting his hands on his cheeks and kissing him, as if it were a seal of their bond.

“Christ,” he breathes, keeping their lips pressed together. “I’ve never felt such a rush in my entire life.”

Harry smiles in the kiss, giving Louis’ lips a parting kiss before pulling back. “Your parents sent me their blessing two days ago,” he says, moving to sit next to Louis on the bench. He shows the ring to Louis. “This was my mother’s ring, and I wanted you to wear it.”

Louis laughs, he feels like he’s flying. “How do you know my ring size?”

“I don’t,” Harry smiles, dimples showing. “But I’ve held onto your hands for so long now, and my friend is the best smith in the world. Let’s hope for the best.”

Louis holds out his hand, laughing again when he sees his fingers are still shaking. Harry carefully takes the ring out of the box, pressing a kiss to Louis’ forehead before bringing the ring to his finger, gently sliding it on.

“It’s perfect,” Louis says, holding the ring forward and watching the sunlight making the stones shimmer.

He leans back against Harry, tucking his face in the crook of Harry’s neck and hiding his watery eyes from the world. Breathing in the familiar scent, he squeezes his fingers tightly around Harry’s until he really believes that everything is real.

 They stay like that for a while, close together in the warm sunlight, listening to the birds in the sky, the rustles of the water, and their own sounds of breathing.

Eventually, Louis pulls back and meets Harry’s eyes. “Is this why you were so interested in my eighteenth birthday?” he smiles.

“It depends,” Harry says, pressing a kiss against the top of Louis’ head. “Your mother thought about a big wedding on your birthday. I told her that it would be entirely your decision.”

Louis thinks about it. He never spent much thought on how he’d like his wedding to be. It never really came up in his thoughts. But whenever he thought about the future he’d want to have with Harry, the only focal point was Harry himself, and the rest kind of faded out.

“I’d like it to be small,” he says, after a while. “Living on Pemberley surely means giving a ball once a year, with all possible grandeur, and I don’t want our wedding to blur into something similar to that.”

“That’s what I thought as well,” Harry nods.

“And as for my birthday, I do not want to keep my mother from throwing her party and fussing over the cakes for the last time. I think it will give her closure,” he sighs deeply suddenly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I am getting married,” he laughs. “I’m actually going to leave Hertfordshire.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Harry asks, smiling.

Louis nods, eyes shining. “A very good thing, I feel ready for it. Maybe we could do an open service in the church here, and a smaller reception at—” he smiles at Harry when he says it, “—home.”

Harry kisses him fully on the lips, tangling his fingers in his hair. “Excellent plan,” he mutters into the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! feedback is lovingly drooled upon♥


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